


Sansa's Vacation

by HeartElm77



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Babies, Contract killing, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Heterosexual Sex, Long-Term Relationship(s), Male-Female Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Modern Era, Older Joffrey, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Sansa, Same Age Sandor, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartElm77/pseuds/HeartElm77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU where Sansa runs away from Joffrey to another city and Sandor is sent to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story so please be gentle. I welcome any comments or suggestions. It's loosely based on the Sansan relationship, if Sansa grew up as a foster kid in the modern world after her family was killed, not knowing anything about her history. Joffrey tricks her into a marriage of convenience to benefit his business empire, and assigns Sandor as her bodyguard. 
> 
> I have more chapters if there is any interest.
> 
> Warning: some slight smut, maybe leading to more later.

Sandor was standing in front of her hotel room door, he was sure of it. But he wasn't sure whether to smash it open or knock. He quickly calculated her youth and inexperience against her resourcefulness, and decided that she probably did not have a shotgun aimed at the door. He knocked softly.

"Yes, who is it?" Sansa called in response. The door was thick so she must have been standing right behind it. He made a mental note to lecture her about that later. 

He didn't reply, but knocked again, louder. She opened the door. "What is it? I asked not to be…oh." She looked up into his face with disappointment. "It's you," she said flatly.

He pushed past her into the room and closed the door quickly behind them, stopping to lock it and kick a door block under the base so it couldn't be pushed open. 

"Have you been enjoying your vacation?" he asked, smiling sarcastically. 

"Actually, yes. I'd almost forgotten what it's like to open my own doors," she moved further into the room and flopped down into the nearest chair. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't act stupid. Have you talked to anyone? Has anyone contacted you? He questioned her intently; scanning her face for the lie, worried for her. 

"No one. Who would I talk to? I don't know anyone. I came here to get some peace and quiet, not to conduct espionage," she pouted. 

He held up his hands. "Ok, ok. Don't get in a snit. I get paid to ask." He was relieved. "I've kinda enjoyed the vacation too. I love Dar es Salaam," he went to the window. "I love those little boats."

"Dhows," she replied. "I like them too. How did you know where to find me?"

"It's a long story. Mind if I order some room service? I'll pay the bill," he teased her. He knew she loved room service. 

"Go ahead, get me something too," He picked up the phone and ordered.

She looked surprised. "How do you know their menu so well?"

"I've stayed here a lot, before. The Mongolian beef is fantastic," he sat down on the side of the bed across from her, stretched his long arms above his head and groaned. His back was killing him. "I've been sitting in that uncomfortable chair in the lobby for hours. I'm all kinked up. Do you mind if I make myself more comfortable?"

She smirked at him. "As long as you don't start taking your clothes off."

"That isn't what I had in mind," he shrugged out of his long overcoat and laid it on the bed, revealing a handgun in a holster at his back. He laid it, holster and all, on the bedside table. From inside the coat he removed a longer gun with a narrow barrel, and various tools and weapons she didn't recognize, and added them to the collection on the table. He kicked off his boots and slid them beside the bed. While she continued to watch in amazement, he checked each firearm and positioned one of them inside the top drawer in the table on the opposite side of the bed. He hung his coat over the back of a chair.

Completing his inventory, he turned back to her. "Listen to me carefully. I don’t want you to touch any of this. Even if someone comes through that door. Even if they shoot me. Without a gun in your hand, you’re a hostage. I can get you back. With a gun in your hand, you're a target. They'll just shoot you and I'm not a doctor. If you want to learn to shoot a gun, I'll take you to the range and teach you, but unskilled people who pick up guns get killed. Do you understand?" She nodded seriously. 

He moved to the bed, adjusted some pillows against the headboard and lay back against it. 

She retuned to her question. "But how did you know where to find me?"

He scratched at his chest and looked at her. "I knew you'd come here because you told me."

"I never did. I thought I was being so sneaky, coming here. I never told anyone at all," she protested. 

"Yes, you did. You told me once 'I think heaven is like a nice hotel. All white duvets and delicious food whenever you want it. I bet the real heaven is like the Kilimanjaro hotel in Dar es Salaam.' That's what you told me. I figured I'd find you in a nice hotel," he shrugged. "Thought I'd try this one first." 

"I'd forgotten that. I guess I wasn't as smart as I thought," she said sadly. She sat down next to him on the wide bed and hugged her knees to her chest. 

"Don't feel bad. You did pretty well, considering," he smiled at her. He didn't want her to feel sad. "The catering truck was a good idea."

She brightened up. "It was, wasn't it," she said proudly. "I didn't have any other means of transportation on my own, but I saw the chance to get away and I took it. Did you review the surveillance footage and see me? How long did it take for anyone to miss me? I thought with the party going on, it would take a while."

"No, I knew right away." He was interrupted by a knock on the door. He leaned in from the side of the door, a gun in his hand, to look out the peephole, and then opened the door, tipped the waiter and wheeled in the tray. A delicious smell wafted in and his stomach growled as he laid out the food and dug in.

She gestured to the side table. "This is fantastic. Good choice. Will you pour me some wine? And he complied. "Would you like some?" she asked. 

"No. I never drink on the job," he winked at her. He liked all of his reflexes to be as good as possible when he was working. He didn't really anticipate trouble tonight, but it was always best to be prepared. Everywhere except the estate was dangerous for her, and therefore also for him. "Let me tell you, this excursion has been a pain in the ass, but now I'm here, I'm actually enjoying myself." He tried to steer the conversion to a neutral topic. 

"Don't change the subject. How did you know I was gone so soon? You were out of town," she looked confused.

This was the conversation he had been trying to avoid. Maybe it was better to dive right in. She needed to know at some point anyway. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nope, I was waiting for you to make a move. Joffrey tipped me off. I never left."

She was furious. "I don't understand. How did Joffrey know? Are you always spying on me, all those times you pretend to be away? That's insane," she ranted.

He stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Settle down. It's not like that at all. It's just, there's lots you don't know but I think I better tell you. But you've got to promise to calm the fuck down. Some of this shit's pretty intense and you can't fly off the handle about everything," he tried to be reassuring.

She took some deep breaths. "Ok, I want to know everything."

He laughed and pushed his dishes away. "If I told you everything your head would explode. Let's just start small." He shifted back onto the bed. "Ok. Where to start? Joffrey asked me to pretend to go but really stay to keep watch on the cameras. I saw you get into the van and leave with the caterers and I got ready to follow you."

"But if you saw me right away, why didn't you get me right then, before I got onto the train and crossed the Channel? She frowned.

"Well, I didn't want to catch you right away. I was kinda curious about where you were going to run to so I let you get a head start. I didn't know you were on the train until later," He paused. "Now, what I'm going to tell you is going to freak you out. Try to keep it together, ok?" He looked at her sternly. He wasn't sure what she'd do and he couldn't risk her drawing more attention to herself while at the hotel. 

She nodded. "I want to know. What is it?"

He reached out to stoke the tender skin on the underside of her left arm. "You have a tracker in your arm. Joffrey can see where you are on satellite." He tightened his grip as she tried to pull away. 

"That's…that's…crazy," she looked at her arm and went pale. "I can't see anything there. It looks just the same," she looked at him with tears in her eyes. 

He stroked her arm again gently with his fingers. "You can't see it. It's really small. I don't even know when he did it. It wouldn't have hurt, really. You might have been awake and not even noticed. But, the thing is, when Joffrey says he won’t let you go, he isn't going to fuck around. He knows where you are every moment. The only reason he let me leave you here in Dar for so long is because I was shadowing you all the time."

"What is he so afraid of. No one has ever threatened me, or even taken notice of me at all. I lived for 18 years completely off the radar. No one cared about me at all, but now everyone seems to care and it's worse," she started to cry and he felt awful and spoke quickly. 

"But no one knew who you were then. Now, you're their best bet to weaken Joffrey and his empire.”

"I just never believed that I could actually be in any danger from people I don’t even know, and from Joffrey too. I never considered that it would be better for so many people just to kill me. I don't know what to do. How to react? Who can I trust? No one is really like they seem," she wiped her wet eyes. 

He smiled down at her. "Well, no. That's not totally true. You know Joffrey. He seems like a ruthless, manipulative bastard and he is a ruthless, manipulative bastard."

"Well, you seem like a friend and a trained killer. Which is right?" she looked closely at his face. 

He winced. That cut him deeply. "Can't I be both?" he looked away from her. "I know it seems crazy, and like you can't trust anyone. But I’ve never lied to you, have I?" he paused. "I mean, I don't tell you everything, or even most of everything, but at least when I tell you stuff, you've never caught me in a lie." He waited for her judgment.

"But Joffrey did lie to me. He pretended to be good and pretended to love me when he found me, but he was lying about everything. And he pretended to be my friend, but it was all for himself," she finished angrily. 

"Well, he could hardly have said 'Hey, Come live with me for the rest of your life. I'll be real good to you. Don't mind the occasional beating." He replied. 

Shocked into a laugh, she agreed. "I guess not, but it was still a mean trick."

"But now you're super rich, and good looking, and have a great personal bodyguard," he gestured grandly to himself. "A lot of people would love to be in your place. I know it isn't a picnic, but it could be worse, couldn't it? He gestured to the lavish room and the setting sun beyond the window. It was a beautiful scene; dhows floating romantically out of the harbour into the sun, the city below bright with colour and activity. 

"So you're saying, I should suck it up and stop being such a spoiled princess," she smiled at him and he patted her head and sat back again.

"No, that's not quite right. I guess, I'm trying to say… you are a princess, imprisoned in a castle. But that doesn't have to be the end of your life. You still have lots of chances for other things. Don't waste you time thinking about how things should be different. Face up to the way things are. Make the most of that and you'll be happier. But maybe I'm just full of shit," he shrugged sheepishly.

"You don't talk like a trained killer," she said, and his face fell. "I mean, I don't feel like I can read you at all. You're a mystery to me," she continued.

"I am a killer, but that isn't all I am, either," he said sadly. 

"Sorry. I don't mean to discriminate against you on the basis of your profession. Please keep being my friend," she clutched his shoulder. "I promise that if you let me stay here one more night, I'll come quietly home with you tomorrow, like a good girl," she smiled at him charmingly.

He nodded in agreement. "Ok, but I get to choose the movie," and he reached across her for the remote.

They watched a movie together side by side on the bed. When it finished she stretched and said "I'm going to take a shower. Do you mind? Do you want a chance to use the bathroom first?

"Sure, thanks," he replied. After he used the toilet he examined the array of little soaps and lotions on the long marble counter. She'd used up most of the conditioner already. He recognized the smell on her hair. He finished washing up and returned to the other room. She was in shadow, backlit by the bright lights coming up from the city outside. She drew the curtains and turned on the small lamp beside the bed where the guns gleamed darkly. "All yours," he jerked his head back towards the bathroom. 

"Feel free to read or watch anther movie. I might soak for a while," she pointed to her stack of books on the bedside table. He grabbed her copy of Jane Eyre. "Might as well brush up on the classics. It's been a long time since I read this," he acted like he was joking, but actually he liked Jane Eyre. It had been one of the few books available to him during a particularly dull surveillance assignment a few years ago, and he had enjoyed it more than he had expected. He guessed that most people knew what it was to be lonely and unloved.

She smiled back at him. "Please, help yourself," and she went into the bathroom carrying her robe.

He laid back down on the bed and read a few pages of the book, but his tiredness overcame him. It was tough work, being constantly on edge. He closed his eyes as the shower turned on in the bathroom. He imagined her naked, the water running down her face, over her round breasts, and past her gently curved belly. He knew she wasn't shaved like most women these days. She liked to go bare assed under her party dresses and once, when walking up the stairs of the terrace, the wind had caught the edge of her skirt and exposed her for a moment while he watched. She had a tuft of soft red curls on her mound that he wanted to comb through his fingers. 

He'd thought her good looking the first time he saw her, and loved looking at her ass, long before she ever saw him, but it wasn't until they were formally introduced in Joffrey's office that he grew curious about her. He had seen her blush when she shook his hand, and he'd wondered for a long time what she'd been thinking about to cause it. Was it just social anxiety or was she interested in him? He wasn't vain. He knew some women liked the challenge of a guy his size. His job description and his burned face seemed to show his evident ferocity and that was a turn on for some, but most women were put off by it, and anyway, she didn't seem the type to be turned on by battle stories or violent shit. Guns, and fast cars, and brutal fighting just seemed to make her concerned and sorry for him. 

And just when he thought that he'd figured her out, she surprised him again. How did she get to be such a mix of maturity and naivety? he wondered. He knew she was sexually experienced. When she drank with him she'd hinted at some fairly wild stories, and he knew she wasn't a virgin when she first slept with Joffrey. He'd helped compile the evidence of her case for the lawyers when Joffrey investigated her, including making a list of any relationships in her life, present and past. She'd had her share of sexual relationships, but he knew she hadn't hooked up with anyone besides Joffrey since he had brought her here four years ago. 

Joffrey had really owed him a favour. He'd been loyal for a long time. His whole life, really. So when he asked to be assigned to her, Joffrey had been happy to agree. So happy that Sandor had wondered if there was an ulterior motive behind it, but grabbed the gift anyway. 

And it was a fantastic gift. The most fun he'd had in ages; storming around her in an intimidating manner; threatening, dismissive and bullying by turns. Every time he forced her to look at him he felt a jolt of pleasure, whether it was dislike, or concern, disgust or disapproval on her face, he loved her attention. 

But then he fell too. He became interested in what she thought. Wondered how she'd react to things. Wanted to know her more, and tell her things about himself; things he hadn't told any one else. And he really wanted to fuck her too. 

His thoughts returned to the vision of her in the shower. Imagined licking the water off her nipples and twirling his fingers in that soft tuft of hair. He considered just walking in to join her, and dismissed it quickly. Then he thought about jerking himself off right now. His pants were getting uncomfortably tight around his groin, but he decided not to risk it. 

He checked the lock on the door, then returned to the bed and fell instantly asleep. 

The next morning she was curled up next to him, wrapped in her bathrobe; her leg raised over his knee and showing a long expanse of pale skin. Her face was pressed against his arm, a thin line of drool on the corner of her mouth. He used the tip of his finger to wipe it away gently without waking her up. He looked at the ceiling and plotted out the day.


	2. Sansa Reflects Back on Her First Meeting with Sandor in Joffrey's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are a few scenes that takes place a while after the events of chapter one. Sansa adjusts to life in Joffrey's house and reflects on her first meeting with Sandor in Joffrey's office. Sandor and Sansa's relationship develops, with flashbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smutty

Sansa hid in the library. Dance music thumped loudly into the dark cavern, and closed off quickly as she shut the heavy door behind her. It was very dark; little light from the brightly lit terrace fell in spears onto the marble floor through gaps in the thick curtains over windows two stories high. The sudden quiet was almost as welcoming to her as the cool, still atmosphere on the skin of her arms after the heat of too many people around her, too close together, and none of them friends. 

Soon she was covered in goose-flesh in her thin, party dress which was not much more than two thin straps and silver gauze. A warmer dress would have been her preference, especially this time of year when the scorching heat of summer began to burn off in the evenings and leave the suggestion of autumn’s cool nights around the corner, but Joffrey didn’t like her to cover up. He wanted to show her off. Probably on the same principle that the Tudor-era executioners cut martyr’s hair before their burning at Smithfield, worried that long hair might obscure their expressions of agony on the pyre. He didn’t want to miss a thing, and her face was like glass, lying and concealment did not come easily to her. Even her posture gave away her distain and her fear no matter how she tried to hide it. She hated it here in his house, and was grateful for the library that no one else ever seemed to use. 

She slipped off her high heeled sandals, worried about the clicking noise more than the cold on her bare feet and running up her bare legs, nylons being out of style. She wished she’d thought to grab her shawl before she made her escape. She took the pin out of her long red hair and tucked it into her bra for safekeeping. 

Usually there was a fire left burning in the immense fireplace in the middle of the echoing room; making a cozy pool of warmth next to worn leather chairs on a deep carpet, but tonight the fire had been left unattended by the busy staff and had gone out hours ago. She thought for a moment of stretching out on the floor of the hearth to enjoy the residual warmth, like Cinderella in the ashes, but she was just bourgeoisie enough to be worried about ruining her expensive dress. 

"It’s not my money I would be wasting anyway", she reminded herself. "He may be evil incarnate, but at least Joffrey isn’t a cheapskate. Only the best of jailers for me. I’ve come up in the world. I used to worry about how to buy the paperbacks I wanted, now I worry about how to use up all my cash before I get another stack each week. I can buy anything I like now, expect my freedom, and I can go anywhere I like, as long as I'm never alone". 

She remembered the first, and only, time she tried to flee. She made it all the way to the Kilimanjaro Hotel in Dar es Salaam before Joffrey's hired babysitter found her. She had thought she'd been so smart, only using cash, taking public transportation, never using a credit card, passport, or her real name, but somehow the knock on the door came anyway. She's have to ask him sometime how he'd found her. He might even answer her question.

She had been grateful that it was Sandor that was sent to find her. She suspected that he'd taken three days looking so that she could have a little time to enjoy her spree and not because it had really taken that long to find her. He seemed kind beneath his ferocious appearance, and had never hurt her, even when ordered. 

She still remembered the odd look on his face when they first met in Joffrey's office last year. Joffrey had called her in alone and explained that a new arrival had come to join the household and be her personal bodyguard, responsible for her safety when she left the grounds of the estate. She was free to leave the property whenever she liked, and a car and driver would be made available to her, as long as Sandor was with her at all times. She remembered feeling oddly grateful that she could now shop for her own things, instead of sending her maid with a list and always being disappointed. No, jelly tots were not the same as jelly babies. Even the thought of black liquorish made her stomach turn. 

Joffrey then called Sandor into the room and she was amazed that he hadn't hit his head on the high-arching door frame as he entered. He was a very tall man, easily 6'8'' and muscled proportionately. When she rose to shake his hand her own 5'4' made her feel Lilliputian in comparison. For a second, as his large hand hugged hers gently, she imagined how she would need a chair to kiss him without straining her neck and blushed at the thought. She hated how everything she thought always showed on her face. She practiced a neutral expression in the mirror every morning, but so far it was never available in times of stress or embarrassment. 

It was then that she saw a look on Sandor's face that was hard for her to decipher; a mix of curiosity that hadn't been there at first. It was like, in that moment, he recognized her from somewhere else. She smiled up at him politely, trying not to stare at the burn marks revealed on the right side of his face, but he had already dropped her hand and turned away toward the door. "I guess I'm your dog now. Let me know when it's time for walkies." he snarled as he left the room.

Joffrey smiled in response. ""Don't let the Hound’s manner bother you. He'll do as he's bid, and he's the best at what he does." "Is his bite as bad as his bark?" she had asked. "What is it he usually does?" Joffrey laughed. "Yes, his bite is worse than a little thing like you can even imagine. Don't get on his bad side, but I'm paying him too well to cause trouble. You will be very safe with Sandor at your side. He has quite a reputation, but he's been a close connection to my house for a long time, and he's very loyal to us." 

For several days after this introduction she had been afraid to call on him; shy of inconveniencing him or causing trouble by asking him to go out with her. He wasn't traditionally handsome, but his posture showed that he was so at ease with himself that it made her feel awkward around him.

Everyday she would see Sandor sitting in the hallway outside her room in the mornings, sparing in the yard with the other guards in the afternoons, or during the evenings in the grand hall when the whole household and guests dined together in the grand medieval tradition that Joffrey insisted upon, until finally he had cornered her in the garden. 

"What's the problem? Embarrassed to go out because your dog's too ugly?" he leaned over her, blocking the sun from her eyes. "No, no, of course not." she had stammered, caught off guard by his hostility. "I was just worried about causing you trouble. I don’t need to go out if you're busy. I mean, I…" Sandor's mouth twitched into a smirk. "Sick and tried of sitting around this fucking house with nothing to do. Get your purse. I want to go to the pub." "Yes, yes, I'll be right there." she had said to his retreating back as he strode away from her, faster than she could keep up. 

Since then they had visited the local pub many times. Sandor would have four pints or more, making her glad for her personal car and driver. She worried that she would have been more afraid of asking him to drink less, than of allowing him to drive her home while drunk. However, he never drank enough with her that she could tell it affected him, other than making him more chatty. 

He would sometimes tell her funny stories about "missions" he had been on, but often the punch line was something violent and horrifying like "…so then he took a bite and his head exploded onto the wall and scared the shit out of everyone." And when she didn't laugh but looked sad instead it made him angry. "What? Never seen something like that before?" he would say scornfully. "It must be nice to be so ignorant." And she would sit and fume in silence and refuse to have another drink with him until he sulked in return and left the table. 

This happened so often she wondered why he kept suggesting the pub. She didn't know what he got out of these visits or why he drank and talked about such horrible things to her, but she was grateful for the times when he took her to museums and shopping. They often stopped to have a meal in a nice restaurant, and once they went to a play downtown. It was almost like having a friend but she didn't allow herself to forget who paid him. 

She shook off these memories and rubbed her cold arms as she grabbed for the throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch before the fireplace and wrapped it around her. It was cold too, but the scratchy wool soon warmed as she padded on bare feet to a far corner of the library where the tallest shelves stood. She sank down onto the hard floor in the shadows, wrapping the blanket under her and around her feet and closed her eyes. She was tired and her eyes felt scratchy, but when she rubbed them the sharp pain in the left eye socked made her wince.

Like a jolt of electricity she saw Joffrey's hand swinging towards her face again, so fast it was a blur. She didn't even have time to react until she was on the floor of his office, too shocked to cry, breath heaving in her chest. "Stop asking. You aren't going anywhere. You are my wife and that was the choice you made." he shouted. "What choice?" she had shouted back. "I never had any choice, just two terrible alternatives. It's not the same thing." He raised his hand again, and she had cringed. In her blanket burrow she remembered that and felt sick. How are the mighty fallen? she thought, but couldn't remember where that quotation came from. A lump caused pressure in her throat and she started to cry around it.

She must have dosed off because her head came up from her chest with a jerk when she heard heavy footsteps on the marble three shelf rows away. She shrank back into her cocoon in the dark as the steps came closer. Finally, a tall shadow appeared at the end of the aisle. "Are you frozen to the floor yet?" Sandor asked. 

She had to clear her throat to answer him. "Not yet. How did you find me?" He held up her sandals dangling from his left hand, as he offered his right to lift her up. "Found these inside the door." She felt foolish and tried to hide it by rearranging her blanket, but he caught her chin in his hand and turned her face towards him. "Shit. That's a beauty. What did you say to him this time?" 

"Nothing I haven't said before. I guess I'm just stupid. I don't know why I try to appeal to people's better nature." She laughed and her voice cracked and she stopped talking to hiccup a few more sobs. "Is Joffrey looking for me? I didn't want to go back to the party looking like this." 

"No, he's too busy chasing some piece of ass from the party so he's left with her to drive around the golf course like assholes. I'll get you up to your room." 

She turned and followed him past the silent shelves and back into the main floor corridor. The party noise was winding down, and she could see some of the staff carrying empty glasses towards the kitchens. Some of the revelers staggered down the hall towards them, but none of them looked sober enough to acknowledge her and they continued past them towards waiting cabs. Joffrey didn't like guests to stay over. Too much risk of them stumbling onto the odd secret during the night, so he always provided free after-party cabs to anyone who remained. 

Sandor trailed her up the wide spiral staircase with its ancient fanciful-carved wooden balustrade, and further down the hall lined with portraits too dark to be seen clearly in the dim evening light, to the double doors of her bedroom. He opened a door for her and stepped aside. "Put some ice on your face and take some pills. Nothing's broken, you'll be ok in the morning." he said. "How do you know nothing's broken?" she asked, grinning up at him. "Are you a doctor?" "Do you want another black eye, Miss Smart Ass. I know because you'd be puking if it was." 

"I'll take your word for it, seeing as I don't have your wealth of experience." She was silent for a moment. "I don't have any pills. He doesn't like me to have them around. Can you go get me some?" 

"I don't have any. I use booze instead. Wait here." He turned back towards the stairs as she went inside and closed the door.   
The sight of her rooms never failed to take her by surprise, even now. Her bedroom was larger than any place she'd ever slept in her past life, even larger than a hotel suite, with its own sitting area, lavish bathroom and dressing room next door. It was pretty much the accommodation of her dreams as a shy child growing up without parents in someone else's house, when she imagined that she was really a princess and lived in a castle. Here own parents had died when she was three and she was put into foster care because she was the last on her family. She knew nothing about her history or ancestors, but had heard that they once were a very powerful family before the rise of the Lannisters.

How bitter those childhood dreams seemed to her now that she was living in an actual castle, or at least a huge and ancient estate with its own surrounding fairytale forest. All those years when she fell asleep imagining that she was special and someday her real family would rescue her. "My Darling!" her real parents would say, as they whisked her away from her dreary reality into a new life. "We finally found you!" 

She had a vivid fantasy life, but even she had never though that her dreams could come true in such a nightmare way. The day that Joffrey's dark limousine had pulled up in front of her foster parent's house, but of course he had been a stranger to her then. 

The memory of the day when she first met Joffrey now sent a chill down her spine. How could she have guessed what her new life had in store when he had swept her off her feet and married her within a month? "It's good that people don't know what's coming." she thought. "Otherwise, we'd never get up in the morning. The terror of anticipation would be too much to bear."

She entered her dressing room and changed her dress for a warm set of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. Sandor was coming back any minute and she felt embarrassed about meeting him in her more revealing night clothes. She dropped her dress and shoes onto the floor. Her maid Adele would deal with them in the morning. 

She could never remember the organizational system Adele had developed for her clothing. She remembered years ago watching a movie about the theft of Paris Hilton's belongings from her lavish home in Hollywood and wondering how she had taken so long to notice expensive items had gone missing. But now, as she looked around at her own rows upon rows of expensive shoes, clothes, jewelry and other accessories she thought "It would take me weeks to figure out if anything was gone." The only thing she would miss would be her favorite pair of jeans and most comfortable sneakers. It's true, you can only wear one dress at a time; eat one meal at a time, no matter how rich you are. "Even a king can have a favorite outfit. Where did that quotation come from?" she wondered. 

A knock sounded at the door and she opened it to reveal Sandor, carrying a tray filled with bottles, glasses and garnish. 

"What is all this? How did you know I was thirsty and hungry?" she inquired. Her stomach was grumbling. 

"What's it look like? Move so I can put it down." He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his heavy black boot. He went to the table in her sitting area and began to mix two drinks. 

"What are you making for me? I don't want anything too strong."

"Rum for me, a whisky sour for you. The vitamin C's good for you." She wasn't sure if he was joking, but she drank what he handed to her. 

"This is really good. I didn't know you could mix drinks." she said, sipping.

"What you don't know would fill a book." He knocked his drink back in one go and immediately poured himself another. 

"Why are you so angry at me tonight? I haven't done anything. It's not fair." she said to his back as she moved to sit on the couch behind him. 

"Fair! What the fuck does that mean. It is your fault. You like getting smacked in the face? Keep your fucking mouth shut next time." 

Tears came to her eyes and she felt mad and guilty but she didn't know for what. "I guess you're right. I was being stupid. But it's not fair of you to yell at me. What difference does it make to you? Just go do what you want without me. Less trouble for you."

"You're damned right, less trouble for me! Don't know why I bother. I'm just your nurse maid, cleaning you up all the time. Grown up!" he drank down a third drink and walked unsteadily to the seat across from hers, carrying the bottle. 

"You're right; I should just get drunk all the time, like you. Then nothing would bother me too." She stomped to the table, poured another good sized glass and drank it in a big swallow. She poured another one and drank that too, and then felt slightly sick. Her feet tingled and she laid her hands flat on the table. 

"Stop it. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter." Sandor appeared beside her and moved her glass away. "Sit down."

He led her back to her spot on the couch where they had sat so often, watching movies and silly TV shows together. She used to love dramatic movies, and epic sagas, but now comedies were all she could handle. She wished they were watching something right now.

"Do you want to see what's on for the late movie tonight?" she asked him in a small voice. He shook his head without looking at her. 

"I should get going so you can go to bed." He started to rise but she put her hand out.

"Please don’t. I don't feel sleepy yet. If you're not here I'll just dwell on everything and get upset. Yell at me some more to take my mind off things." She smiled at him and patted his hand. He turned his hand over and clutched hers tightly as he leaned in and kissed her mouth. 

She was surprised by the warmth of his lips, and her mouth parted automatically to take his lower lip between hers. He let go of her hand and reached behind her, sliding one hand down her spine while the other held the back of her neck. She leaned into him as her lips opened and his tongue flicked into her mouth, tasting not unpleasantly of rum. She worried that it had been a while since she'd last brushed her teeth, but put her mind firmly back into the present situation.

Sandor slipped his hand under the edge of her shirt and drew her closer to him. Her head tilted upwards and she rose on her knees to meet his lips from a better angle. He pulled her towards his chest until she was touching him from knees to face. She could feel his hard body again her chest, and couldn't help squirming closer to him. 

He made a small gasping noise as the stroked the front of his pants and then lightly ran her hands along the edge of his belt. She wasn't quite sure where this was going but she knew she wanted to see more of him so she pulled the edge of his shirt up to his shoulders. He grabbed at his shirt and threw it off as she ran her hands over his naked chest. 

He placed his hands over her breasts and his thumbs found her nipples, rubbing them lightly over her clothes and then harder as she smothered a gasp into his neck. She leaned back and pushed his hands away momentarily so she could remove her t-shirt and drop it onto the floor. She grabbed his hands and moved them from her hips back to her breasts as she met his mouth again. 

Sandor's hands fumbled at her waist band, sliding her pajamas down to her hips while she opened his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. She was surprised that he was so lightly haired. For some reason she had thought that he would be very hairy, but his chest was almost bare except for the light line from his stomach down. He bent over to remove his boots. 

Suddenly he lifted her from the couch and carried her to the bed. She managed to remove her pajama bottoms while he laid her down. He muttered "I haven't waited so long for this to waste it on an uncomfortable couch", as he pushed his pants off and then loomed above her on the bed. 

Naked, she felt the late night air find its way through the curtains and she shivered. He looked at her for a moment in concern until she lifted her hand to his arm and drew him closer. 

It was too dim in the room to see him as clearly as she wanted to, but she could feel his smooth skin when she wrapped her hand around him. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and bent her head to take him into her mouth. She could feel herself getting slick and swollen as her tongue rolled over him. She squeezed him gently around his shaft and her mouth moved up and down while her tongue flicked the sensitive ridge on the underside. He moaned softly and stroked the hair over the back of her neck. 

He gasped and pulled away from her and she sat up in concern. "I want to be inside you." he whispered.

She moved him until his back was against the headboard and then climbed to straddle him. He kissed her and stroked her breasts while she guided him inside her. It had been a while. She pushed thoughts of Joffrey firmly away, and put her hand lightly on Sandor's hard shoulders to steady herself. "You're so tense. You need a massage." she teased and he laughed quietly into her hair. 

As she slid down onto him, bit by bit, she gasped and enjoyed the sensation of tightness. He was pretty nicely sized, and she took her time to savour it. Then she moved up and down slowly as his breath came faster and he lifted her up slightly to tongue her nipples. 

She increased the speed of her rocking motion as her lips moved over his neck and chest. She inserted her hand between their bodies to stroke herself. His hands wrapped around her waist as he thrust his body deeper into hers and she came with a breathless gasp that clinched her insides and made her grip her hands on his shoulders tightly. Sandor came inside her then with a quiet moan and she felt hot wetness sliding down her inner thighs. 

She fell into his chest as his arms wrapped around her. He kissed the top of her head and whispered something but she didn't hear what it was. His body was like a furnace and she was grateful for the heat as the skin on her back and legs cooled. She wanted a blanket but didn't quite know how to get one without meeting his eyes. 

She was sobering up now to the reality that her relationship with Sandor was forever changed and she wasn't sure if she knew how that would be. She was afraid of losing her only friend, but also afraid of ruining what they had found together. Her high school intimacies, and whatever it was she had with Joffrey, had done little to guide her in this situation. She rolled off of his lap, curled up next to him and closed her eyes. She decided to sleep on it. 

She woke some time after dawn with Sandor asleep under the blanket beside her. He must have felt her wake up. He turned towards her and smiled dangerously. She smiled back and ran her hand along his heavily muscled arm. With a quick movement he rolled onto her and licked her neck. While she squirmed beneath him and giggled with delight he stoked her thighs, parted them and slid into her with a quick thrust. She made an undignified squeak that made him chuckle, and then increase his pace until she clutched at his back as she came. He wrapped his arms tightly around her until his own breath came faster and, and as he had his own finish, he bit her throat. 

"Sorry. Got carried away." he said quietly as he left the bed. She rubbed the spot on her neck. "That's ok. I didn't mind. It just wasn't expecting it."

Sandor moved around the room, collecting his clothing. "I have to go out. Will you be ok today?"

"Sure, of course. I've got some things to do around here. See you at dinner?"

He nodded as he bucked his belt without looking at her and pushed his arms into his shirt. She was looking out the window, the blanket wrapped around her naked body, when she felt Sandor's hands on her arms. "Stay out of trouble." he said, and kissed her firmly on the head. She turned around, but he was already closing the door behind him. 

She flopped back into the bed and closed her eyes, the better to re-envision what she had experienced. "That was fantastic." she admitted to herself, but underneath the memory of the pleasure was another feeling, not as pleasant, that she couldn't articulate. 

She wasn't concerned about Joffrey. He wasn't the jealous type for her anymore. She guessed the novelty had worn off for him once he’s had her in bed. Truth be told, he'd like her to get together with someone, as long as it didn't create scandal and she kept up the public façade of their marriage. She even suspected that Joffrey had pushed her and Sandor together for just this reason. Is that what was nagging at her. Did she feel annoyed with herself for playing into his hands again, not knowing his full purpose? What did she care, as long as she was enjoying her role in it? It was too complicated to puzzle out this early in the morning after the night she'd had.

She ran a hot bath and tried not to think about anything at all.


	3. Continued from Chapter 1, Sansa Has Questions for Sandor During Her Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation of Chapter One; Sansa has some questions for Sandor the next morning in the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the short continuation of Sansa's conversation with Sandor while at the hotel from chapter one.

“Do you really think I’m good looking? She asked him shyly over breakfast later that morning. She was sitting with one leg tucked under the other at the table by the window while he stretched out on the bed reading the local paper. He was trying not to be distracted by the way her bathrobe fell slightly open at her chest as she leaved towards him. 

“What?” he looked up. “Where did that come from?” 

“She licked at dab of cream cheese off her bagel. “You said last night that I was rich and good looking. I know I’m rich, but do you think I’m good looking? She persisted. 

He threw the paper aside and sat up. “Yes, you’re smoking hot, beautiful, a gorgeous piece of ass; however you want to describe it. The guys all draw lots to get surveillance when you’re by the pool at home,” he smirked at her. “That make you happy? Were you feeling a little insecure this morning?” he loved to tease her. 

She blushed but continued, “Yes, it does make me happy, I guess,” she shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that it’s been so long since anyone has actually made a pass at me, I was beginning to wonder if I didn’t have the ability to compete with the other women that Joffrey surrounds himself with. Not that I’m jealous of him. I don’t think about him that way at all,” she looked at him seriously. “It’s just that, I was feeling a little…”

“Insecure?” he finished for her. He was relieved to hear that she didn't nurture some deep romantic crush on Joffrey who was kind of an asshole and didn't deserve it. 

She snorted and replied, “Well, it’s not very polite of you to point that out, but yes, I’m feeling insecure.”

“Well, let me set your mind at rest. Yes, everyone lusts over you. I’m serious; the guys all drool over you in your bikini. Christ. Is it at all possible for you to buy a more concealing swimsuit? I’m worried for the security of the estate every time you walk onto the pool desk,” he added sardonically. He, too, had enjoyed many hours unobtrusively admiring her while on the deck at home. 

She blushed painfully. “I just wondered why no one seems to notice me, like, as a woman.”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” he retorted. “Do you really think anyone’s going to risk Joffrey getting pissed off at them for approaching you? Jesus. He’d fucking kill anyone caught making a pass at you,” he turned back to his paper. 

She looked out the window in exasperation. “Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve got any, let me tell you. Don’t judge me.”

He snorted. “By all means, do tell. I didn’t know that you were in such a sad state. Say the word, I’m here for you.” 

She laughed. “Well, I appreciate your desire to take one for the team. I’ll keep your offer in mind.” He laughed too. 

She turned back to him. “Hey, you just did,” she accused him.

“I just did what?”

“You just made a pass at me, and you said no one would risk that.”

He pretended to be focused on the newspaper. Shit. He was hoping she had missed that slip up. “Well, I guess I’m a special case. He wouldn’t give a shit if we got together,” he answered nonchalantly, but she persisted.

“What does that mean? Did Joffrey offer me to you? Is that your reward for doing whatever it is you do for him?” she started to get upset. 

He was furious at her accusations. He leapt off the bed and stood over her. “Shut up. I didn’t mean that at all. And no, Joffrey doesn’t pay me in pussy. I’ve worked for him for a long time. I was even younger than you were when I started. And he didn’t have me hosting motherfucking dinner parties, let me tell you. I’ve earned his trust over a lifetime of good service and loyalty. He knows that he can trust me not to put my hands on you, that’s what I meant. You’d be amazed at how many guys on staff are rapists,” he finished. 

She was crying now and he felt guilty. He knelt down in front of her “Look, stop being upset. I didn’t…it just hurt my feelings. You think I can’t get all the women I want, that I have to have someone buy it for me? I could fuck around every night if I wanted to. Those crazy rich cunts who hang around Joffrey and his friends are always throwing themselves at me. And I know lots of women who are in my ‘line of work’ too,” he smirked at the euphemism. “I have lots in common with them and it’s nice to be able to talk shop once in a while. I don’t have to beg for it. Stop crying, please,” he begged. 

She wiped her eyes and looked at him. “I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to. You are super good looking. I don’t doubt that you could find a really nice girlfriend if you wanted one. Then I guess you’d spend all your time with her.” She blew her nose on a napkin and left the room, and he didn’t know what to make of her parting words.


	4. At the Hotel the Following Day: Deadly Threat and Response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These events occur between Sansa and Sandor the following day at the hotel. An enemy to Joffrey's business interests has found them.
> 
> Warning: Also smutty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the events in the hotel flashback with Sansa and Sandor, early in their relationship. Apologizes for the confusing sequence. I plan to re-edit the chapters so that the order isn't so hard to follow. I'm still just posting these as I wrote them.

Sansa came out of the bathroom later and didn't refer to their earlier argument. Sandor seemed to want to forget about it too. They spent the day strolling the city of Dar es Salaam together; eating lunch at a little café and buying souvenirs. She really wanted some of the kanga fabric that men wore in that part of the world as sarongs, and they went to several markets to find a good selection. After a fantastic sushi dinner in the hotel they returned to her room; Sandor supporting her as she’d had slightly too much wine. She was glad that he didn't lecture her. 

The door to their room was ajar. 

He hushed her with a look and walked quietly down the hall as he removed some kind of hand gun with a long barrel from his coat. He disappeared into the room while she waited. 

A moment later she heard a loud bang, and ran down the hallway towards it; just as a man stepped out of the elevator and grabbed her from behind. She yelped but Sandor did not reappear. 

She felt the stranger press something cold against her lower back, and fought to breathe as his arm other arm tightened around her neck. He turned her around and began to drag her towards the elevator when she heard another loud bang and Sandor reappeared in front of her. The man let go of her and fell to the expensive tile floor. 

Sandor lifted her over the body now lying on the floor and dropped her into a chair back inside the room. She sat dazed for a moment and then looked up to see Sandor standing over a body of another man bleeding into the carpet of their room. 

"Who is that guy, what, what…?" she stammered stupidly. 

"It's ok. We're alright. Just close your eyes and take some deep breathes. We're leaving in a minute,' he said calmly and left the room. 

 

He went to work quickly. She didn’t remember seeing him pack up his things. His extra gun and other items had disappeared from the top of the bedside table too. 

He bundled the bodies into the closet; covering the whole mess in the blankets from the bed and closing the door on it all. He snatched up her bag from the other closet and stuffed all of her clothes and things into it, checking each drawer thoroughly, and then moved to the bathroom. “Good thing I packed light,” she thought stupidly. She could hear him in the bathroom, sweeping all of her things off the counters into her bag and zipping it closed. 

Then he returned to her side to pile a stack of American money on the bedside table. "We better leave a good tip. When the maid sees this mess she'll need extra money for therapy," he joked to her.

She looked blankly up at him and he peered closely into her face. “If you’re going to puke, try and let me know before,” he said to her. She blinked at him.

“What? Oh, sorry, yes, no. I’m not going to. I’m fine,” Sansa smiled lopsidedly. 

“Yah, right,” he muttered as he helped her stand. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go downstairs and check out, and get into a car outside. You’re going to stay right beside me the whole time. Do you understand?” he questioned.

“Yes. No problem. Seems simple enough,” she replied and he frowned at her. “Really, I’m ready,” she tried to reassure him but he didn’t look convinced. 

With one heavy hand on her shoulder, he picked up her bag with the other and steered her to the door. They walked down the quiet hallway and took the elevator to the lobby. The desk clerk was alone at the counter and they checked out quickly.

He hailed a waiting dark windowed limousine outside, shoved her into it and slid quickly in behind her. “Airport, please,” he nodded to the driver, and they drove away.

He typed on his phone for a few moments while she watched the streets stream by. They arrived at the airport in minutes and drove right onto the tarmac next to the waiting plane. Joffrey's smallest private jet, she noticed. 

“How did they get it ready so quickly?” she asked him. He pushed past her to open the door of the car. 

“I’ve had them here since yesterday,” he responded shortly. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed her bag and got out; heat from the steaming pavement hitting her until she climbed the stairs into the small air conditioned plane cabin. She slumped into a seat while Sandor had a whispered conversation with the pilots. The doors closed and they headed out onto the runway. 

He checked that her seatbelt was on and then chose the seat across from her, stretching out his long legs. Soon they were airborne. 

“You did really well. Good job,” he smiled at her proudly. “You’re a great listener. How are you feeling?” he asked.

She looked at him seriously. ”Ok. I guess. I don’t think that was an experience I’d like to have again. I think I’m going to go home and never leave again,” and right now she really meant it. She rubbed her back. “My side hurts,” she frowned at him. 

He looked at her t-shirt where she pointed, then quickly unsnapped her seatbelt and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me for a minute,” he led her to the sleeping cabin in the back of the plane. 

She felt slightly sick. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing big, stop worrying. I just want to check something out,” he sat her down on the bed and lifted up her shirt, exposing a small cut low down on the side of her back. She craned her neck trying to see what he was looking at.

“What’s wrong? Let me see? She pulled away to the mirror. “What….? she trailed off as she looked at it. “What is that? Was that from that guy? Oh my god?” she put her hands over her mouth, terrified and grossed out.

He turned her around. “Calm the fuck down. It’s nothing. It doesn’t even need a band aid. Are you worried that it’ll scar your gorgeous perfection?” He teased her, but she wasn't distracted.

“Will it leave a mark there? How do you know it’s not a big deal? It’s a big deal to me!” she said shrilly. 

“It’s nothing. It will be gone in a few days. I know because I’m a paramedic,” he smiled at her. 

“Really?” She laughed suddenly in a loud burst and didn’t stop. He frowned at her quizzically. 

“What’s so funny”, he asked, concerned. 

“You! You’re like that guy on that movie, you know the one, ‘I’m not only a cameraman, I’m also a doctor. I’m not only a doctor, I’m a comedian,” she flopped down on the bed and held her stomach as she shrieked with laughter. Her laughing muscles were getting sore. 

Finally she sat up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why that was so funny,” she chuckled a few more times then got it together. “I’m ok now. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy.” She was slightly irritated by his concern. 

“You’ve been under a lot of stress today. I think you should get some rest. We’ll be home in about eight hours,” he checked his watch and set it to the new time.

“You’re right. I have been under a lot of stress. I can’t believe that you deal with things like that all the time. Doesn’t it get scary for you?” she questioned him. 

He shrugged. “It’s a learned skill, like training to be a paramedic,” he smiled at her. 

“Well, I don’t know if I could get used to something like that. You must have had a lot of training,” she said flatteringly as she put her arms around his shoulders. She was tired of resisting her impulses and wanted some distraction from the day. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek.

“It was no trouble,” he replied, sliding his hands slowly down her arms and moving her away. He got up from the bed. 

“Where are you going?” Sansa asked him, moving to stand in front of him. 

“Avoiding trouble,” he grinned down at her. 

“Is that what I am?” she replied in a voice of mock offense. 

“I think maybe it is,” Sandor moved to walk around her again to the door and she blocked him with her hands on his hard stomach. 

“I don’t think I feel like sitting here all by myself,” she laid her head onto his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and rested his head on hers. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll just make it up as I go along,”

"Ok," he said. He threw her suddenly back onto the bed and climbed over her; running his hands up her body. She laughed in surprise as he pressed her back into the pillows and licked her neck. She was ticklish but it felt great. She gasped a little when he found a sensitive spot, to encourage him in the right direction.

He moved his hand under her skirt tentatively; and then more firmly when she parted her legs for him. She was on fire, and her skin tingled when he stroked her through the thin damp cloth.

"Ummm," she hummed, and found his lips with hers again while he slid a finger along the rim of her underpants and then inside her. She clutched his shoulder and moved against him, urging him deeper as his thumb found her clit and stroked it slowly in maddening circles. 

"Oh my god," she whispered. She pressed her head to his chest and clenched his shirt in her hands as he increased the speed of his movements, the waves of pleasure overwhelming her; and held her breath for a long moment when, suddenly, her toes clinched and she came. 

She laid still for a few moments. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. 

"Do you feel sleepy now?" he asked. 

"Maybe a little," she replied and adjusted the pillow under her head while he covered her with a blanket. She was asleep before he left the cabin.


	5. Later on the Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor and Sansa have one more conversation on the plane before they arrive home to Joffrey's estate to face his reaction to Sansa's earlier escape.

"Was that a pity climax?" she questioned. He choked and almost spat his breakfast coffee over their table in the main cabin. She looked at him in concern. She really did want to know, but she doubted that she'd like the answer. Now that the steward had left them alone, she wanted to seize the moment. They'd be landing soon and she wasn't sure what awaited her at home.

"I mean, were you just being nice, before. I don't mind if you were," she hastened to reassure him, seeing his scowl as he wiped his face with a napkin. "I just wanted to know, like, I don't know…" she trailed off in embarrassment.

"You want to know if it meant anything to me, or if I was just helping you out," he reassured her. "It's ok. Yes, to both questions," he finished as he buttered his toast with perhaps more concentration than it required.

She blushed deeper. "Oh, that's nice. It was nice, too." 

He laughed, "Don't mention it. It was my pleasure."

"Well, no. It really wasn't. I mean, sorry, I kind of neglected you. Sorry I fell asleep," she repeated. "This is a very awkward conversation. I'll just stop now," she put her plate aside and examined the window closely.

"It's ok. It's a pretty common reaction to the events of yesterday, I think. Sometimes it happens to me too. I finish a job and then I want to fuck somebody and then I want to sleep," he admitted shyly. 

She leaned closer in interest. "That's so weird. Do you think it's like at funerals? They say that it makes people want to 'reassure themselves in their 'life-ness', I don't think that's the right word. But you know what I mean? It helps people feel better and reminds them that they are still alive, able to enjoy things, to have sex after."

"You're probably right. Have you ever been to any funerals?" he asked her. 

Her face turned sad. "No, I don’t think so. I guess my parent's, but I don't remember," she shook her head. She didn't feel like dwelling on that.

"Anyways," she began again in a formal tone, "if the opportunity presents itself again, I want you to know that I'm not always that selfish, in that kind of situation," she nodded at him. 

He chuckled. "It's ok. I can see you're feeling guilty, but really, I didn't mind at all," he replied in the same serious way, and she laughed and started to pack up her magazines.

"Great. I'm glad to hear that. I was worried I'd messed up my only chance," she stood up to get the rest of her things from the cabin before the pilot turned on the seatbelt sign.

He put his hand on her arm. "Wait a sec," he pulled her down onto his lap with a serious look in his face. "I want you to know that I do care about you. I didn't want things to get weird between us so yesterday I stopped things before they went any further. I didn't want you to rush into something that you'd regret. When you've been through the kind of things you experienced at the hotel, it sometimes makes you do things, have feelings, that aren't usual. Give it a while until you know how you really feel and then let me know. I'm not going anywhere," he helped her back up.

She wiped her eyes. "Ok," she nodded. "Oh, I just remembered. Are you going to be in trouble with Joffrey," her stomach knotted as she thought of the reception that awaited her at home.

He shrugged. "No, I meant what I said yesterday. Joffrey won't mind. I think…" he didn't finish his thought.

"What," she pressured him. "What do you think?"

"Let's talk about it later," he put her off.

"But, I might not be able to… I'm scared actually. What do you think he's going to do? How much trouble am I in?" she hugged her arms as he looked at her tenderly.

"I don't think he's going to kill you. You might be grounded for a few days," he considered. "I'm guessing, if you apologize and promise to listen from now on he'll let you off easy. You might also mention to him about me and you," he added casually.

"What do you mean? Why would that help the situation? I'm feeling like there's something you want to tell me," she narrowed her eyes at him.

The pilot turned on the seatbelt sign. She slid into the nearest seat and bucked her seatbelt. He did the same beside her and looked into her eyes.

"Ok. Here’s the quick version. I feel like Joffrey wants us to get together. He was super pleased when I asked to be assigned to your protection."

"You asked to be assigned to me?" she was oddly flattered by that, but tried to stay focused on the situation at hand. "Ok, I'll try to mention it casually. But I am going to ask him straight out what he's up to. I'm tired of being manipulated. But maybe not right away."


	6. Sansa and Sandor Arrive Back Home to Joffrey's Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor arrive back home to Joffrey's estate. Sansa thinks back to her first meeting with Joffrey.

Sansa’s usual car and driver were waiting for her and Sandor on the tarmac when their plane touched down. Her driver Jimmy held the door open for her.

“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Sansa. Did you have a pleasant trip,” he asked.

She smiled back at him. “Yes, thanks, I did. It was very hot. Have you had nice weather here?” she asked as she climbed in, Sandor behind her.

“Yes, we certainly have had very pleasant weather. Your new planters for the terrace were delivered the other day. The gardeners were waiting for your return to decide what to plant. And I think Adele mentioned to me that she has rows and rows of the next season’s clothing for you to look at,” he continued.

Sandor lifted an eyebrow at her. “Good thing you’re back. Matters of high import demand your attention,” he said sardonically. 

She bristled. “We can’t all be as important as you,” she rejoined. “I’ll have you know that those little decisions are important to me, to my little life. You don’t have to mock. I already know that my small issues are very insignificant against your great career. We can’t all hold the power of life and death in our hands. Think how messy that would be,” she sniffed and firmly turned to the window. She saw him scowl out of the corner of her eye but he said nothing.

They rode in silence the rest of the way home; her stomach knotted. She was worried that she was going to have to find a bathroom soon. Stress always made her stomach act up at the worst times. As the car sped along, Sansa thought back to several years earlier; to the first time she met Joffrey at her foster parent's house, before she knew what he was like.

She had been finishing her grade 12 homework and trying to decide how best to answer the questions on her student loan application. She'd applied to five universities, and was feeling confident of acceptance to at least one, but was less sure of how much student aid she would be awarded. She was smart, but somehow never got the highest grades needed for scholarship because she spent so much time at her part time job. Foster kids didn't get allowance.

When the knock sounded on the door, her foster father Bruce was in the middle of yet another argument with Jason, her foster brother, over the TV remote, and she remembered feeling thankful that he was at least wearing a shirt when he opened the door to their distinguished visitor. 

He was very good-looking, in a preppy, British upper class way, like he could have been a crew member on the Oxford rowing team. "It's hard to get that good tailoring on such a muscular figure. That is an expensive suit." she had thought, looking at him.

Joffrey held out a business card and asked for her by name, explaining that he was a lawyer for a European law firm, looking into the circumstance of her parent's death. She was immediately suspicious, since they had died when she was three and no one had been interested before now, but she'd always felt that the questions she had of their lives and the way they died had never been answered to her satisfaction. She wasn't ready to dismiss this stranger until she'd heard what he had to say. She still cursed her curiosity, and wished that she'd let her foster father slam the door in his face. 

She sat next to Bruce on the edge of the ratty couch across from Joffrey, as he sat back and introduced himself with an easy manner; overlaid with a slight English accent. She hadn't travelled enough to know, but she did watch a lot of movies, and he spoke in a James Bond kind of way. 

"I'm sorry to come before you so suddenly, but I have been following the trail of this young lady for some time." He indicated with a courteous nod in her direction. "I have reason to believe that this young lady may be connected in a distant way to the family I represent." 

"In what way? Who are you? This all sounds very fishy to me." Her foster father asserted. "We should wait until my wife gets home from work. She'll want to know what's going on." 

"I would hate exceedingly to interrupt your evening. I have extensive documentation of the situation here for your perusal." He handed a crisp-looking file folder to Bruce, and stood up. "I don't want to take more of your precious time. I'll leave you that information and contact you later in the week." And he let himself out, while she, Bruce and Jason leap up to follow him to the door. She felt miffed that she hadn't been quicker to take control of the situation herself before she lost the chance to ask questions, but eagerly snatched the file out of Bruce's hands. 

"Hey, don't grab. You don't know anything about that guy. I bet he's running some kind of scam on foster kids. Probably sex slavery or something." She blushed at hearing the word sex come out of her foster parent's mouth, but held onto the folder and spilled it onto the sticky coffee table. Inside were several official-looking sheets of paper with legal seals embossed, which she recognized as her parent's death certificates and other type-written pages paper-clipped together. "Even the paper-clips look fancy", she'd thought. 

She looked closely at the cover letter on the first group of pages. It was a letter introducing a law firm in London, England, explaining that they were the executors of the estate of the Stark family, holders of the ancestral estate of Winterfell. The last members of the family had died years previously under mysterious circumstances, and they were eager to settle the estate in the name of the last descendant. "What a great idea for a story", she'd mused. "This could be a good idea for my English assignment next week." 

She turned quickly to the next page as Bruce and Jason got bored watching her and went back to their show, and then she saw it. "Our investigators have determined that you may be the last surviving member of the Stark family. This matter can be settled with a simple DNA test, and we encourage you to acquiesce to this request, given the great import entailed upon it. Of course, we will cover the cost of the test itself, and any travel or other costs that you may incur." She felt her hands go numb. "This is crazy. Someone must be putting me on." But she didn't know anyone that would care enough about her to go to the trouble of such an involved practical joke. She went to the phone and made the call.

In her memory from that moment on, things became a blur. She went to a ritzy private clinic in the city for the blood test, and Joffrey, who she knew at the time as Mr. Baratheon, took her out for lunch afterwards. He regaled her with tales of the Stark family history, and seemed to share in her regret at finally finding out the sad facts of her parent's short lives. Apparently both of her parents had died in a sad but mundane car accident when she was three. Without any family she had been placed in foster care right after the accident.

The results of the test came back the day of her final high school exams. Joffrey came to the house and told her with a huge smile on his good-looking face. "What a delight to share such wonderful news with such a special girl." he gushed. "You must allow me to escort you personally to our office to hear the details of the situation. By all means, please bring your foster parents. As your legal guardians, I wouldn't dream of conducting any of this without their presence and loving guidance." 

"That was laying it on a little thick." Sansa thought. She hadn't even been able to count on their guidance for her university applications, beyond "You better find something because after you turn 18 you're out of here." In truth, they had never stated it that openly, but she knew the situation. They had their own son to put through school, and after she turned 18 the government support cheques would stop coming to them. They were nice people and she'd lived with them for five years now, but they weren't a family. 

"I can't come now. I have to leave in an hour for my final exam. One more and I'm finished high school." Joffrey's face hardened. "Well, after this interview you may not need to finish. Don't you understand? You are the heir to the entire fortune. You can't imagine the estate that is coming to you. Let's just say for now, you will be able to pay your way into any school in the world." What she remembered most from that day were the looks on the faces of her foster family as she slide into the back of Joffrey's car, disbelief and envy all mixed together. 

Once downtown Joffrey led her to the top floor of a building so high she had mild vertigo in the glass elevator and had to look at the carpet to avoid being sick. She hated high places. When they reached their destination they were welcomed into a corner office that could have belonged to Donald Trump, the master of slick, tasteless opulence, all dark wood and bronze, with ugly geometric art in stark frames. 

An elderly and distinguished man with a grandfatherly manner came out from behind the desk to greet her and help her into a leather arm chair in from of his desk while Joffrey waited in the hall. She never caught his name, and before she knew it, he was deep into legal jargon. She stopped him in mid-sentence. "Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt. It's true, then?" 

"What's that, my dear?" 

"I mean, is it true that I'm the heiress? What does that mean? I don’t really understand."

"Oh, of course, my dear. You are right to ask. Don't ever sign anything until you're sure. That's what I always say. You can never been too careful. Constant vigilance in these matters!" 

She smiled at him. "Thank you. You're very kind. Could you please just explain to me in simple terms what all of this means?"

"Well. I suppose the best way to start is to say, you are the last surviving member of the Stark family, which can trace its ancestry back over 1000 years. The DNA test is conclusive. There can be no mistake. The entire family's holdings, including the Winterfell estate, are now yours. You are now the possessor of the estate in the UK which, given a current estimate of worth, and understanding that certain objects and land holdings in the estate cannot be exactly estimated, given their priceless value from their historical nature…"Yes." She interrupted. "How much are we talking about?"

"35 million dollars, not including ancestral property holding and jewelry." he finished bluntly. 

She had often imagined, as most people do, winning the lottery, even though she never bought tickets, scorning them as a tax on the poor and people who couldn't do math. She had imagined that in such a circumstance she would feel shocked immediately, followed by surprise and excitement, but in reality she felt nothing. "Maybe this is what shock really feels like,” she thought. "It feels like nothing at all."

Joffrey took her out to dinner right after all the legal paperwork was complete, and she had accepted a "small sum" in advance of her full inheritance to be deposited at a later date. It was still more money than she had ever even imagined seeing in her bank account. Her eyes blurred at all the zeros on the atm screen so she wasn't sure if the total was in the ten or hundreds of thousands. He ordered her fine wine and delicious food, and then booked her into the nicest hotel. She had never had so much fun. 

It wasn't until later that week, after buying all new clothes for herself and booking her ticket to the UK to tour her estate; that she thought to wonder who Joffrey really was. She hadn't realized until far too late that her lawyer didn't treat him like a fellow employee of the firm, and she didn't know anything about him other than what he shared with her himself. She had tried to draw details out of him that she could collaborate by Google, but all she could turn up was that he was a wealthy philanthropist based in the UK, and allied with a number of worthy causes and upstanding businesses.

"Not much to go on there," she thought, and she resolved to ask him directly why he was so interested in her case. 

The next morning, at a little coffee shop near her hotel, she had leaned over to him in a friendly confidential way and said "Let's be honest with each other. I know that you're not a lawyer. I appreciate all that you've done for me, but I don't understand why you have gone to so much trouble on my behalf." 

Joffrey's green eyes had gone slightly narrow at her question, but he smiled in his usual easy-going way. "Well, my dear. I was indeed closely connected to your family. I pledged myself to find the heir so that the Stark name and Winterfell would not be lost forever.”

Sansa frowned. "It was very considerate of you, given your important business and charitable dealings in the UK," He laughed. 

"Have you been investigating me?" he questioned with mock outrage, and smiled.   
Sansa blushed. "Not really, but I'm sure you don't think that a woman my age should get onto a plane with a man she's only know for a week without finding out the first thing about him."

"Of course not, my dear. It was very sensible of you to check up on me. But don't put too much faith into an internet search. There could still be many mysteries about me yet." He chuckled, but then faced her with the most serious look she had ever seen him adopt. "I assure you, your safety is the most important thing on my mind. Far more important than any business or charity endeavor. I will make sure that you are securely settled into your new home as my first priority."

The memory of that day sent a chill down her spine. How could she have guessed what her new life had in store? "It's good that people don't know what's coming." she thought. "Otherwise, we'd never get up in the morning. The terror of anticipation would be too much to bear."

Finally the car wound its way up the long drive to the front entrance of their home, Joffrey’s estate, Casterly Rock. 

Sandor carried her bag behind her into the grand foyer where Joffrey stood waiting to meet them.

“Welcome home,” he boomed in a cheery voice. “I’ve missed you terribly. Please, I want to hear all of the holiday details. Join me in the study,” she took her arm firmly and led the way down the hall. At the door he paused and nodded to Sandor. “Thank you, Sandor. Please close the door for us,” he dismissed him, as he led her to a chair across from his desk. 

She fingered the metal divots in the old leather armrest as he seated himself behind the huge, old fashioned desk. It was evening now, and the only light was Joffrey’s green banker’s lamp on the desk top. It threw the rows of book shelves around them into shadow and made his face menacing. “Is this effort at intimidation for my benefit,” she wondered as she looked around. “It’s really working.”

He smiled at her and she wondered if he’d read her thoughts on her face.

Joffrey laughed out loud, showing all his teeth. Despite their excellent dental care, his teeth always looked slightly sharper than the usual. She frowned at him.

“No, my dear. I’m not reading your thoughts. I don’t have to, your face is so clear already. Yes, I hope you are feeling intimidated. It is my hope that this warning keeps you better in line in the future. You put yourself in real danger. If I hadn’t sent Sandor what would you have done?” he finished sternly.

She looked down at her hands in her lap, feeling very foolish and somewhat resentful. “Been killed, I suppose. I guess at the time I left I was feeling like that might be the better option for me. I’m having coming to terms with the fact that this is my life now,” she said sadly.

Joffrey came to her side and took her hands. “I know this isn’t exactly the future that I promised you before. I know that there are limitations that frustrate you. But your role here is so vitally important. Please believe me; I don’t put these barriers in place for my amusement. There are many things going on around you of which you are unaware.”

“I know! I’m so tired of hearing that,” she said forcefully, realizing too late what she’d given away.

“Tired of hearing? From whom? Who has been filling your ears, little one?” he demanded coldly.

“Just… nobody, really. Sandor; he just told me that I needed to listen to you. That it was really important,” she finished lamely.

He relaxed and sank back into his chair. “You and he have become very close.”

She nodded. “Sandor said that you seemed to want that to happen. Will you tell me why?” 

He looked at her, making his decision. “Yes, I will tell you. It’s a long explanation and I have other business to attend to tonight so I’ll give you the short version, for now, and you must be content with that.” She nodded to him as he continued. 

“Sandor is the last of his family, as you are of yours. His family has some very significant qualities which I think would compliment yours and I thought you two would suit each other. And, not to sound too mercenary about it but, if you and he were to form a relationship it would be one way to ensure his continued loyalty to my interests.”

“Does he know about this?” 

“He may, yes,” Joffrey replied, nodding.

“But, what’s in it for him? What are his ‘significant qualities’ and why would being with me be an advantage to him at all,” she questioned.

Joffrey smiled. “Besides closeness to your obviously excellent self, you mean?” She shrugged that aside.

“What’s so special about him and his family,” she was determined to get a straight answer, but Joffrey shook his head.

“You will have to ask him. He may not want me to tell you just yet. Perhaps never.”

“Well, none of this makes a lot of sense,” she stood up and moved to the door. “I mean, you and I are already married so it’s not like Sandor and I can run away together.” 

Joffrey smiled. “Well, marriage isn’t the only type of long term commitment, you know.”

Sansa wondered about that remark as she left the room.


	7. Back at Home, Sansa Talks Over the Attack with Sandor

The next day Sansa sought out Sandor in the garden. She had felt badly about being nasty to him the day before and wanted to apologize.

"Yesterday in the car, I didn't mean to be rude to you about your job," Sansa said as they sat in the garden. Her hands were deep in the dirt now, pulling weeds. Sandor reclined beside her; drinking from his water bottle and still sweating from his recent work out in the gym with the other guards. 

"Yes, you did. You wanted to be mean and you were. You made me feel crappy. I know that you don't approve of what I do," he laid back on the soft grass and covered his eyes from the bright sun with his arms. "You don’t need to rub it in."

"I guess I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone take up that line of work? Why do you keep doing it? Is it because you enjoy it?" That was her worst fear. She dreaded discovering that he just liked the violence, or needed it somehow.

He was quiet for a few minutes. She thought maybe he'd fallen asleep, but then he sat up to answer her. 

"Fuck it. Yes. I like doing my job. I know that disappoints you. I didn’t set out in life to be a hired killer. I just exhibited a certain aptitude and Joffrey recruited me. And I'm really good at it. SAS training has a fifty percent or higher drop out rate, and I aced it. What I do is highly specialized and unique. I love being good at what I do. I don’t deny it. Every time I aim my rifle on a mission I'm accepting the responsibility for someone's death. The whole purpose of the training is to make you comfortable with violence. So yes, I'm comfortable with violence. We train in combat situations so that we can operate in them without being overwhelmed by the adrenaline. That's why I have to keep my skills up all the time. I like knowing that I make the call of who lives and who dies. I decide whose life is more important; the other guy, or me and the one I'm protecting."

"Like those guys in the hotel," he continued and she shivered at the reminder. "I didn't have a doubt in my mind that I would kill them. They're bad guys. They threatened you. I made the only call."

"But don't you think that there's a gray area there, at all? That maybe you shouldn't get to decide?" she asked him in a quiet voice. 

He looked at her in irritation. "Would you have preferred that I let them take you? Do you have any idea what they would do with you? If you were lucky, they'd just kill you. Most likely they would have spent days torturing you before they realized that you don't know shit. And I would have had to hope that they'd decided to torture you, because at least then I'd have a chance to get you back before they killed you." He exhaled heavily and looked at her. 

She couldn't look at him. She felt awful. She whispered, "I killed those people," and burst into loud tears. If she hadn't run away like a spoiled baby and made herself a target, they'd still be alive. She was filled with terrible remorse. She had put them and him in that situation for such selfish, petty reasons. 

He grabbed her face in his hands. "No. Don't ever think that," he said angrily. "They were evil assholes. They would have died like that someday anyway. Someone was going to take them out. It might as well be me. I was happy to do it. I was happy to do it for you."

She couldn't stop crying, and now she had to wipe her nose discretely on her t-shirt. 

He tried again to comfort her. "Is that's what's been bothering you? You should have said something. I knew those guys. If I read you their file of the things they've done, you'd puke after. They deserved it. Don't waste your compassion on those fuckers. Save it for me. They bled on my good boots."

She snickered without meaning to. "Why do you always make me laugh at inappropriate things?" she asked him. 

"Cause I love to see you when you’re shocked out of acting so sweet. I like it when you're mean and bitchy and storming around. It's like when a puppy growls," he laughed at her.


	8. Fallout from the Events of Chapter 2 (the first night together)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the flashbacks about the vacation, this is a return to the main timeline from chapter two (their first night together after the party).

Bathed and dressed and full from breakfast the next morning, Sansa felt pretty well. She spent the day working in the garden alone, and that night, as she dressed for the formal dinner in the main hall, she was thankful that her bruised face had gone down and was easy to cover with light make-up. She also patted a little powder on the mark on her throat, smiling. Her earlier feeling of unease had dissipated, and she was excited to be seeing Sandor soon at the dinner table. 

But she was to be disappointed. Joffrey greeted her in the front hall instead. "How lovely you look tonight, My dear wife. Are you looking for Sandor? Your shadow isn't here. He asked for a few days off, so I'm assigning Boras to you instead. Don't look so downcast. He's almost as good a shot, and his table manners are better." He laughed as he slipped her arm under his and led her into the reception room. 

"No, it's not a problem. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." She turned her face away to smile at the arriving guests. Joffrey watched her closely. 

"Has something happened? Have you had a lover's quarrel?" Joffrey whispered to her. 

"No, no, of course not." And she tried to pull her arm away but he held on tighter and looked searchingly into her eyes. 

"Let's discuss this another time." she said, and he relaxed and smiled. 

"Of course. You are quite right. This is hardly the place for me to hear all the details. But later, that's another story." He looked at her intently as she smiled and slipped into the crowd. 

At dinner she talked gaily with the men on both sides, but her mind was on Sandor. He never showed up. His place at the table was taken by someone else. She led the ladies into the winter parlour for tea and gossip after dinner while the men sat at the table and smoked and talked nonsense, following the old customs that Joffrey insisted upon. 

 

Sandor was gone for four weeks. No phone calls, no news at all. Finally she asked Joffrey outright. 

"Have you fired Sandor?" she asked Joffrey one evening as when he was working in his office. He looked up quizzically from his paperwork. 

She repeated her question. "Have you fired Sandor? He's been gone for weeks and nobody's told me anything. What's going on?" She tried to act as if the answer didn't mean anything, but by asking she'd already given herself away.

"Oh, my dear. I'm sorry. Have you been worried? I thought you knew. I thought he'd already told you. I had a little assignment for him and I couldn't trust anyone else to do it properly. He'll be back next week. Is the replacement not working out?"

"Yes, he's fine, but, before Sandor left we…." She didn't feel comfortable explaining anything else, but Joffrey nodded and smiled. 

"It's alright. It's not a secret. I knew at the time that you and he had, let's say 'taken your relationship to the next level.' I'm very happy for you two. I'm sure he's been missing you." 

She blushed and frowned. "Is it dangerous, what he's doing right now? Where is he?" 

"Sorry, I can't tell you. I don't even know myself, but I'm sure he's fine. He's very good at what he does." Joffrey turned back to his work. "Let me know if you need anything else." and she was dismissed. 

She felt very depressed. She hadn't realized how much she had come to depend on Sandor's company over the last few years. Even when he was grumpy or telling disgusting and inappropriate stories to her she enjoyed being with him. She could have made a social life out of the many invitations she received from Joffrey's friends and their wives, but she didn't feel like she fit in with their crowd. There was something dangerous about them, even when they were acting friendly, that made her uneasy in their company. 

Sansa began falling asleep over her books in the afternoons, and while watching movies in the evenings. Food didn't taste the same, and she never felt truly well. She stopped jogging and took more naps. Even Joffrey noticed the change, and began to bring her extravagant gifts to cheer her up. She was lonely, and spent most of her time lying in the garden or beside the pool, until one afternoon; just like that he was home again.

She was walking in the lower garden past the climbing roses when she heard a shout from the men in the practice yard around the corner.

"Hey, Sandor! Welcome back. Did you get them all? We were going to send out a search team for you. Didn't you say you could do it in half the time?"

"Fuck you. At least when I go out to do a job, it gets done right. I'm tired of cleaning your fuck-ups." a voice growled back. Loud laughter from the group. 

She could hear the men leaving the yard and didn't catch the rest of their comments. She could hear heavy footsteps coming towards her on the gravel path. She was swamped with a wave of panic. She ducked into the archway and walked as quickly as she could towards the grove of evergreens on the other side, trying not to make any noise. 

He caught up with her just before the turn and grabbed her arm. "Where the hell are you going? Didn't you hear me call you?"

She decided to brazen it out. "I didn't imagine that you would be calling to me. I thought I would be the last person on your mind." And she yanked her arm out of his hand and walked further along the path into the woods. 

"Hey, that's not fair. I just got back right now. I haven't even unpacked or eaten. I'm starving. Come inside with me?" Sandor smiled at her, but she looked away.

"I'm sorry, I'm too busy." She tossed her head and walked faster. "Maybe I'll see you later."

"Fine! Be a little bitch. I'm going inside. But after I've had something to eat we're going to have a little talk."

"Don't you threaten me." She panted, brushing back a low-hanging branch. 

"I'm not…what are you talking about? Fuck it. I'm going." He turned and stomped back towards the house and she was alone.

"What the heck was that?" she thought with despair. She felt stupid, but also filled with rage and with no target to aim it at. The woods were green and gold and filled with dappled light through the branches. She sat down in the leaf mold and cried until she was tired. 

She ignored him all through dinner that night and then went to bed early, and for the next three days she avoided him. She ate her meals in her room, and sat by the pool only after she saw him leave the house in the afternoons. She didn't know where he went, but she had seen him twice coming home late in the night, stumbling drunk, with a few of Joffrey's other minions. 

The following afternoon, after she saw him climb into his car, she changed into her bikini and grabbed her towel. She settled into her favorite chair on the pool deck and closed her eyes. 

"Caught you." a low voice rasped with satisfaction. She felt cold water dripping down her face and seeping into the fabric of her yellow string bikini. She opened her eyes to see Sandor standing over her, wringing a towel of pool water out over her head. 

"For crying out loud," she shouted. "Don't you have any manners?"

"Manners? Fucking hell! I've been trying to talk to you for days and getting the run around. Get up!" He pulled her out of the chair and marched her back inside with one hard hand on her back and the other wrapped around her upper arm.

"Ouch! Let go of me!" She yanked but was unable to free her arm. She thought about calling for help but didn't want to look ridiculous in front of the staff. He was obviously angry but she didn't think that he really intended to hurt her, and anyways the whole place was crawling with cameras in every corridor. 

They continued up the main staircase but instead of turning towards her room, he led her further down to his own bedroom door. He removed his hand from her arm to push the door open with enough force that it hit the wall behind it with a bang, and then he yanked it closed behind them as he pushed her into a chair. 

"Sit. I want to talk to you." he growled. She thought of getting up and trying to make it to the door, but she wasn't feeling so great and didn't chance it. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "Go ahead; I can hardly resist such a gentlemanly appeal."

He smirked at her and then sank into a chair. She looked around. She had never been inside his room before and the curiosity was too much for her. It was smaller than her room, with more masculine décor. There were a few large portraits in a country theme on the walls, dogs and horses standing in front of a large house, his family home she assumed. She's never asked him about his family. She didn't even know if he still had any. She felt ashamed and then her anger pushed it aside.

The tables and desk were filled with books and magazines about gun manufacture and the latest military strategy. "How charming, he's a real renaissance man." she thought sarcastically.

"Well? I'm waiting." she said as coolly as she could. "Or did you bring me up here just to stare?"

"There's certainly a lot to look at." He leered at her. "When did you get that bikini?" She inhaled strongly and went to get up. "I won't sit here and be laughed at." she replied, but he put his hand on her shoulder. 

"Sit. Please stay. I'm sorry I was such an asshole. I wasn't trying to be a jerk. I mean, seriously, there is a lot to look at. Do you have something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean? I thought you wanted to say something to me." She took a deep breath. "I only wanted to tell you that I was really hurt that you left without saying goodbye, and you should have called me. I don't know what's going on with us, but I think it deserves at least a phone call." She sniffed and wiped her nose.

"You're right. I should have told you I was going, but I didn't want you to worry and I didn't want to see that look on your face again." He replied, looking away from her.

"What look?"

"You know the look. The one that says 'I can't believe you do what you do, you fucking killer. I only like you when I don't have to think about it." The self -mockery twisted his lips as he spat the words at her.

She was shocked and sad. She didn't know what to say but looked down at her hands. The silence spun out between them and she heard a car driving across the gravel far below them. She wished she was anywhere else.

She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again. Then she heard him. He was crying with his head in his hands, fingers buried deep in his black hair, and she was flooded with guilt and sadness. She rose and sat beside him; putting a small hand on his shoulder. 

"Please don't. Please. I'm so sorry. I love you. I don't want you to be anything else than what you are, truly I don't. Please." He didn't respond so she continued. 

"You're right. I don’t know how to deal with what you do. I guess I forget about it when we're together. I do worry about your safety. I worry about the other guys too, whoever they are. I'm always afraid to ask any questions because I don't want to know the answers. I guess I'm a coward. I let other people keep me safe by doing things that I don't want to know about. It isn't fair to you."

He wiped his face with his hands and turned back to her. "I don't want you to be sorry for me, or feel grateful." He said. "I'm glad you don't know. It's a vacation for me to be with you and not have to think about it. Believe me, I don't want to any more than I have to. Before you, I had to drink every night to stop thinking. I don't want to make you think about it as well. I love looking into your eyes because they haven't seen the shit I have. That everyone around here has." He grabbed her hands.

"I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but please, just tell me. Is it mine?" He searched her face closely.

"Is what yours? I don't understand." She looked clearly into his face and he saw that there was no conscious understanding there. 

He nodded to her belly. "I know that you're pregnant." 

She froze and blood rushed to her face so fast she thought she'd pass out. The wind was knocked out of her chest and she took her hands back from his. She stood up and walked towards the window. 

"I don't… I mean… I guess I hadn't thought… it's too soon to know." She turned to him. "What makes you so sure?" she questioned him. 

He stood in front of her and held her shoulders gently, looking at her in the light from the window with his head tipped back and to the side, examining. "I don't know. I guess, well…your tits are huge. Way larger than before. And you're always falling asleep in the afternoons now. And your skin, it's so…I don't know, it's like, every finger I put on you is going to bruise, like squeezing a peach. And yesterday I saw you put your hand on your stomach and smile to yourself, and then I knew."

She didn't think she could blush any deeper, and her cheeks felt hot to the touch when she raised her hands to them. She felt naked in her swimsuit and wished she'd grabbed a towel. He laid a gentle hand on her belly. "Is it mine? Ours?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I don't know who else." She said sarcastically, and burst into tears. 

He picked her up and settled her onto his lap on the couch. She cried into his shoulder while he patted her back. She sniffed and coughed. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm so unstable and crazy-acting since you left. I've been really sad. I don't know what's wrong." 

"Mood swings. You'll feel better like seven months from now." He smiled down at her. 

She looked up at him seriously and asked "Are you mad at me? I guess… I should've thought, before. I wasn't very responsible. I'm such an idiot. Like a stupid high school girl."

"Hey, don't talk that way. The whole thing is my fault. I didn't even say good-bye to you the day after, I was so fucking ashamed. I took advantage of you when you were real sad, and drunk. I was scared shitless you'd be pissed at me. Maybe even ask me to leave you alone." He swallowed heavily and looked at her hands in his. "I'm not mad at all. I'm so fucking excited I can't think straight. But, are you mad at me? Please tell me the truth. " he pleaded. "Are you going to keep it? Do you want to be with me?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes, of course. I'm glad you're home." She reached up and pulled the neck string of her bikini top. "Are they really that much bigger?" she asked him, laughing. 

"Are you fucking kidding? I'm surprised you could stuff them in that little top. But let me check again." And he pulled her top off so he could slide his hands onto her breasts. 

"Now take off your shirt, too. I want to see you this time." she demanded. He stood up and reached behind his back to pull his t-shirt over his head, revealing the upper body of a comic book superman. "Wow." she said stupidly and he laughed. 

"I've slept with lots of women, but never one who always seems so happy to see me." He laughed. She gave him a level look. "I don't even know how to take that statement." she replied. "Have you slept with lots of women, and why wouldn't they be happy to see you? You're super good looking, and your body is amazing. You must spend a lot of time in the gym."

"Well, when people are tying to kill you, it's good motivation to work out, I guess." He shrugged. "Most women love the body, but are freaked out about the damage." He gestured to the scars on his face. "I think most women I've been with are more sophisticated than you." 

"Ouch!" she mimed getting hit in the heart. "Do you mean to say that you don't find me sophisticated? I'm really hurt." She laughed and sat up to run her hands over his chest. 

"I don't mean it that way. I mean…most women don't want to act impressed by anything. They're too worried about how they look, worried they're going to seem naïve, but you just say what you think. You don’t hide yourself from people."

"I guess I am sometimes too blunt in what I say. I don't always think it out first. And I guess people do think I'm naïve, because I guess I am, really. I'm younger than almost everyone else here, and I'm in the dark about so much stuff that's going on. I can't help that. I wish that I could hide more, but I guess it's just not me. Maybe I'll learn that."

He cupped her face in his hands. "I don't ever want you to learn that. That's why I'm here. So you don't have to."

"How many women have you been with? Or don't I want to know?" she battered her eyelashes up at him innocently. 

"Oh, you definitely don't want to know, and I'm not going to tell you. How many men have you been with?" He slid his hands into her bathing suit bottoms. 

She moved away, deftly avoiding his reaching hands, and sat back on the couch. "A lady doesn't like to kiss and tell." She replied, crossing her legs nonchalantly with her chin held high, as if she had forgotten that she was topless. "But one more doesn't hurt. Take your pants off."

He shook with laughter, but moved to do as she asked, unbuckling his belt and sitting to untie his boots. He tossed them aside and stood again to slide his pants and underwear slowly down his legs to the floor. "Ok, what next?" he asked as he stood there naked. 

"…holy…shit." she said. "I cannot believe that I have you all to myself." She walked over to him and ran her hands up his thighs, ending on his partial erection. "I can't believe we even fit together." she mused as he started to laugh again. 

"My turn." He said as he untied her swimsuit bottoms and threw them aside. She felt very exposed in the bright light streaming through the curtains. He knelt before her and rubbed her leg with his good cheek and then kissed between her thighs. "I love the taste of you." he whispered as he parted her legs and licked her with a soft jab of his tongue. 

She gasped and spread her legs wider as he held her firmly and tongued deeper into her. "Oh my god." she gasped, and rested her hands on the top of his head. "Don't stop." His answering laugh was hot on her skin. 

She rocked back and forth against his face as he inserted one finger inside her, and then another, and she came with a moan, clutching at him. "Sorry, did I yank your hair?" she asked with concern. 

"You might have, I have no idea. I didn’t notice." he said, grinning up at her. He stood up and carried her to the bed. 

She spread her legs so that he could kneel between them on the duvet while he slid his hands under her, lifting her hips to him. She was so wet he slid into her with limited resistance, and she felt his first hard thrust bump into her deeply. 

"Sorry, is that too much. I wasn't…" he looked into her face with concern. 

"No, no, don’t stop." She grabbed his rear end to guide him back to her. "I liked it, I just wasn't expecting it." She giggled and then gasped again as he resumed, less deeply this time. 

She held on tightly to his back and hugged his waist with her legs, her breasts bouncing in time to his thrusts. Her insides clinched and the pleasure built again as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, so tightly it was hard to drawn enough breath into her lungs to keep pace with her panting. He tightened his grip and pressed his teeth to the pulse in her neck as he came with a sharp outward breath on her throat. 

"Sorry, am I crushing you?" he asked, lifting himself up by his arms. 

"Yes, but I like it." She said, snuggling against him again. "It makes me feel needed."

He grinned, and pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. 

"You are very needed...I'm too rough with you. I don't know. Something about you makes me want to bury my dick, and my hands, and my teeth into you. Maybe I'm worried you'll get away otherwise." He admitted, kissing her neck.

"I don't mind, really I don't. I enjoyed myself. Did you?" she asked him.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Yes, I 'enjoyed myself''. What do you think?" he teased her. 

"I think we should do this again some time. Maybe after a nap." And she slept.


	9. Chapter Nine Everybody Loves a Baby

Sansa woke up in Sandor’s bed the next morning with bright sunlight hurting her eyes. She recognized the manly décor and the well organized space filled with his equipment and books. She hadn't really noticed it before but Sandor was a very tidy person. She supposed that he might have had the housekeeping staff in to do the work, but that didn't seem like him. He liked to be in charge of things and have them just so. Even the bits and pieces from his pockets were neatly stacked in a tray on the dresser she could see from the bed.

She lifted her head and saw him on the couch across the room reading a book that looked familiar. "Is that my copy of Jane Eyre again?" she asked him. He put the book aside and came to sit on the bed beside her.

"Yes, it is. How are you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?" he asked her. 

"Very well.” Sansa smiled and stretched. “How long have I been asleep? Did you eat breakfast yet?" she sat up in the bed.

"Yep. I was starving. It's ten o'clock. Do you feel like some breakfast?" 

She felt her stomach grumble and then a wave of nausea. "I'm starving too, but I’m feeling a little sick right now."

He passed her a piece of dry toast. "You'll feel better after you eat."

"I’m not enjoying that part of the experience at all," she said as she crunched her toast, and Sandor smiled. 

“What parts of the experience are you enjoying?”

Sansa thought. “Well, I guess just knowing that I’m going to have a baby. It’s pretty exciting.” She smiled shyly. “Like having a big secret all to myself. Ourselves,” she corrected as Sandor grinned back at her, but then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. 

“Might be a good idea to keep this just between us for a while.”

Sansa worried. “You mean, from Joffrey. I don’t think he’ll make a big deal of it. Like you said, us being together doesn’t seem to bother him.”

“I said he was encouraging us to get together, not that it doesn’t bother him. He’s a ruthless bastard who likes to hurt people. Don’t ever forget that. It seems like he’s mellowed towards you a lot over the last few years, but he has a plan behind everything and I want to know what it is first. I don’t trust him.” Sandor’s strong jaw was clenched and she could see he was concerned.

“Ok. I’ll keep it a secret as long as I can. But, like you always say, I’m not very good at lying.”

Sandor smiled at her across the bed. “You’re the shittiest liar I’ve ever seen. Just do your best. I’ll start asking around and try to find out what Joffrey’s up to.” She laughed.

\--

Sansa did her best to conceal her situation from everyone, but of course within the week she began to get sick all the time, and finally Joffrey guessed her secret. He seemed thrilled, but also suspiciously satisfied.

“What a delightful surprise! When will the baby arrive?” 

Sansa considered her dates. She was terrible at tracking these things, but she and Sandor had been together that first night at the party on August 20th. She remembered the date because she’d organized all the catering and the band. She guessed that the baby would arrive in late May. “Well, I guess sometime in the Spring. I’ll know more when I come back from the doctor. I have an appointment tomorrow.”

But Joffrey insisted on Sansa seeing a doctor of his own choice. He made the appointment for her himself later that week. Sansa did some research on her own and the new doctor seemed highly recommended so she didn’t put up a fight, but she started to look into things on her own. She was starting to feel like something was very wrong.


	10. Chapter Ten Past History and Secrets

The next day they made the trip together into the city for her doctor's appointment. 

“Hey, you look like shit. Are you ok?” Sandor asked when Sansa climbed into the back seat of the car beside him. She smiled wanly as their driver Jimmy pulled away from the house. 

“I’m not feeling so great. I’m glad we’re seeing this specialist today so I can ask her for something that will help with the nausea. I’m sick all the time now. I have a bag in my purse just in case I have to throw up again before we get there.” She smiled weakly up at him, but she wasn’t joking. 

“Anything I can do?”

“Not really. Just talk to me, keep my mind off it.”

So Sandor started a long rambling story about getting his first puppy when he was a kid and Sansa breathed into a lemon-scented handkerchief. 

Finally they arrived and completed the appointment at the specialist’s fancy office high up in a prestigious building. Doctor Nelson seemed very competent and even kind. Alone in the examining room, she had asked Sansa how she was feeling, and suddenly Sansa was sobbing. 

“I’m not feeling so great right now, to tell you the truth. I mean, I’m super excited about the baby, but I’m just so afraid about everything. Things are so weird right now; I wish I could just stop worrying.”

Dr. Nelson smiled, her very white teeth gleaming in her dark, friendly face. “Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “You’re going to be a mom now. You’ll never stop worrying. You’ll just get better at dealing with it. I know. I have two children myself.” 

Sansa laughed and snorted into a tissue. “I hope you’re right.” 

“I am, you’ll see.” 

Everything with the pregnancy was normal so far and Sansa’s guess of a late May due date was correct. All through the appointment Sansa had kept her mind firmly on baby business, but now, on their ride back down in the elevator, she leaned close to Sandor. 

“Oh, I’m not feeling so well.” Sansa swayed, forcing Sandor to grab her arm and lean close to her.

She whispered into his ear. “I need to talk to you.” She looked seriously into his eyes, and he answered her with a look and a slight nod.

“You’ll feel better with some fresh air. Let’s leave the car and sit in the park for a few minutes.” 

He told Jimmy to park the car and get a coffee, and then Sandor lead Sansa to the park across the street. It was noisy with kids and parents enjoying the unseasonably warm Fall weather, and they chose a bench out of earshot. 

Sansa took a deep breath. “Do you think we can talk privately here?”

“It’s as safe as anything can be. I mean, yes, there could be an elaborate surveillance net on you right now, but it doesn’t seem likely. I think Joffrey believes that he has you right where he wants you. He wouldn’t go to the trouble since he already thinks he knows what you’re doing.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She choked. “It’s so much worse than I thought.” She clinched his hands tightly, and then let go, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. Sandor looked worried.

“What’s going on? What did you find out?”

“I’ve been going over all the documents the lawyers gave me when Joffrey first found me. It was stacks and stacks of legal papers and I never read most of them. But it was all about the details of my inheritance, and I never know how much money I have or where it is now? I mean, Joffrey took over everything almost right away, and I was so stupid. I was too trusting and I just let him, and now I don’t know what’s going on with it, or how to get back control of anything.”

Sandor stroked her hands. “Calm down. It’s ok. You were just a kid then. Not the responsible, intelligent woman of twenty-four that you are now.” He smiled teasingly at her. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

She shrugged that off. “But that’s not why I’m upset. I was reading the documents and I found it. The reason behind everything. It’s pretty obvious, but I never really put it together. I knew pretty much right after the wedding that Joffrey only wanted my money, but what I didn’t know is that everything is entailed on me; the money, the estate, everything. If anything happens to me, everything reverts back to an independent law firm and goes to charity. Joffrey couldn’t touch it, and I can’t change it either, not by a will or anything. It has to belong to someone from my family. If we die out, it’s gone. That’s why I had to take the DNA test; why Joffrey spent so much money on finding me. But he has so much money of his own; I just don’t know why having my estate is so important to him."

Sandor stared into the distance and was silent for a long time. It was late afternoon now and the wind had picked up, blowing dead leaves around the playground as parents gathered up children and headed home to dinner. Sansa imagined footy pajamas and teddy bears and the sweet smell of a baby’s head.

“I know why.” Sandor spoke after a long moment. “It’s a long story. I don’t have time to tell it here, but your family, the Starks, had a long history with Joffrey’s. A long, bloody history. Have you ever gone to your ancestral home since you’ve moved here?”

Sansa frowned. “Winterfell? No. I’ve meant too, but Joffrey always discouraged it. It’s so far from here, and I don’t think much is left. Most of it burned in a fire decades ago. Just a few towers of a medieval fort now.”

“Doesn’t really matter. But the feud between your family and Joffrey’s lasted hundreds of years, and I’m pretty sure that Joffrey’s parents saw the last of your family killed. Marrying you, and getting your money must be some sort of final revenge.”

Sansa hadn’t thought she could feel any sicker. It was a shock, but she hadn’t known any of her family. As a kid she’d dreamed of finding them, but she had given up that hope years ago. She mourned her ideal of her parents and the loss of a relationship she had never known. 

“Did you know any of my family? You must have been working for the Lannisters by the time my parents left this country.” She asked, and Sandor looked evasive. 

“Not really. But I think I know what happened to your parents. I think they ran away to the US to escape Joffrey’s family, to start a new life with you, but they died too soon. Before they left they must have set up the will for the estate so that only someone with your DNA could inherit it. They must have hoped that you would be able to claim it some day.”

Sansa was cold. “But then, Joffrey doesn’t really need me anymore, does he? He just needs this baby.” She put her hands on her still flat belly. 

Sandor frowned. “We need to make a plan.”


	11. Escape Plan

That night Sansa lay sleepless alone in her bed, reviewing everything that Sandor had told her. She wished she shared his confidence in their arrangements, but she was afraid. Hoping that preparation would see her through, she went over the steps again in her mind.

“Tomorrow morning I have breakfast the same as usual, and then tell the new guard that Sandor is away and I need him to take me to the matinee performance of Miss Saigon in London at one o’clock. When we get there I tell him to pick me up again at four, but half an hour into the show I slip out to the bathroom and change into the jeans and t-shirt and black windbreaker in my bag. I’ll have to take my low-top Chucks because I can scrunch them down to the bottom of my purse. Then I throw my other clothes into the garbage, along with my wallet, ID, everything else, except the cash money.” Her stomach knotted imagining the finality of that. 

“I don’t know if I’ll have room for everything in my bag. I’ll have to take a dressy purse because anything else won’t go with my dressy outfit and would look suspicious.” 

She thought about getting out of bed to pack everything to see if it would fit, but Sandor had warned her seriously about doing anything out of the ordinary until she had to. 

“I’ve been on surveillance duty at the estate often enough to know that there are cameras everywhere and all the time. Don’t know for sure if Joffrey had secret cameras installed in your room, but it’s possible.” 

She tried to nod at him nonchalantly, but she was embarrassed and angry at the idea of Joffrey spying on her in the bathroom or dressing room. It did seem like something that prick would do. 

Sandor had also explained how they were going to deal with the tracking microchip in her arm. She had actually forgotten about that. Maybe she had pushed it out of her mind on purpose. 

“Can we get a, what’s it called, EMP pulse thing to deactivate it?” she had asked, but Sandor laughed and shook his head. 

“You know, that’s not a bad idea, but I don’t think it’s going to be practical in our situation. We leave tomorrow. I don’t have time to build one or buy one. I’ll take you to a friend of mine. She runs an underground med clinic in her house for illegals. It’s a simple operation to pop it out. Quick, painless.” Sandor saw her flinch and wanted to reassure her.

“Ok. I think I can handle that,” she replied stoutly. “And after that, where are we going?”

Sandor had considered, rubbing his thumb again the sharp black bristles on his unscarred cheek. “Air travel is out. Joffrey will find you real fast if you use ID. Train, maybe?” He looked down at her and shook his head. “Too many people will see you. Might give you away, even if you change your looks.” Sansa sat quietly as he considered. Then he nodded into the distance. 

“Southampton. Freighters leave from there all the time. We can book passage with cash, no questions asked.” 

Sansa started at a noise outside her bedroom door. She propped herself up on one elbow as quietly as she could and strained to hear. The footsteps continued down the hallway. She lay back down onto her pillow, her long red hair sticking to her neck with sweat. Her stomach sloshed unpleasantly, and she wasn’t sure if it was the baby-induced nausea or her anxiety. She took some deep breaths and tried to calm down. 

“I’m so nervous, I’ll never sleep,” she thought. But the stress of the day and the demands of her pregnancy overcame her and she drifted off. 

\--

Sansa slept so soundly that she didn’t wake until late the following morning. Coming to consciousness abruptly, she sat bolt upright and then regretted it immediately as she raced to the bathroom to be sick. 

Afterwards, her stomach sore from the exertion and her mouth tasting foul, she checked her clock and saw it was already eleven. A sudden hit of panicky adrenaline flooded her system, but she tried to remind herself that she still had lots of time. Everything was going to be fine. She wished Sandor was there with her, but he must have left hours ago. to start on his part of the plan. 

After her shower and breakfast alone in her room, she dressed in her pale pink suit with the white glittery blouse and matching pink and white d’Orsay pumps. The outfit always remaindered her of something Barbie would wear, but in a good way. 

Finding her largest pink crocodile purse in her dressing room, she opened her wall safe and removed the stacks of cash that she had saved over the years from the weekly allowance that Joffrey provided. Sansa hadn’t counted it in a long time but figured that there was probably more than a hundred thousand pounds, each stack carefully wrapped in elastic bands. 

Her hands clumsy, she stacked as much as she could in the bottom of her bag, and then rolled a change of clothes and her sneakers up as tightly as she could and laid them on top of the money. Her windbreaker barely fit in the cell phone pocket on the outside of the bag. 

Sansa was just leaving the dressing room when her memory twigged on something. She tried desperately to remember, her heart sinking.

“A hat!” she remembered with relief. Sandor had said that she needed to bring a baseball cap. Something with a brim so that her face wouldn’t be caught in all the hundreds of cameras all over London streets and in most stores and buildings. 

She didn’t wear baseball hats usually, but she did own one that had been given to her free at the museum the last time she was there. It was black, but with a tiny logo from the planetarium on it the looked cool so she had kept it. Finding it quickly, she slid it onto the top of the other items and closed the bag with a strong jerk at the zipper. 

Taking one final look around her room, she was suddenly bereft at the thought of leaving the place she had called home for several years. All of her books looked even more dear to her now that she knew she was going for good. Even though she would buy them again wherever they ended up, they wouldn’t be the same. 

A lump formed in her throat as she tried to get a grip on herself. “Pregnancy hormones,” she thought. “Pull it together, please!” So taking a deep breath, she took firm hold of her purse and left the room.

\--

Glancing at her watch, she saw it was already lunchtime. She would need to leave right now to make the start of the musical on time. She hurried into the lower hallway, looking for the guard who was Sandor’s replacement. 

After several nervous minutes, Sansa spotted him in the garden and hailed him. 

“Excuse me, Boros. Would you mind driving me into the city right now? I’m seeing a show and it starts very soon.”

A burly, not particularly smart-looking man of about forty-five turned to her, his eyes lingering on her chest in a creepy way. 

“Yup, I suppose I could. Right now?” He asked, throwing his cigarette into the ashtray on the patio table. 

“Yes, I’m ready right now. Shall we go?” Sansa started to walk around the house to the driveway and to her relief, Boros followed her.

But just as Sansa was sliding into the leather back seat of the car, she heard Joffrey call to her from the door of the house. 

“Sansa, where are you going?” Joffrey’s footsteps on the gravel sounded unnaturally loud in Sansa’s ears. She stuck her head out of the window and replied casually, “Just to the opera. Miss Saigon is playing today in the city, and I was suddenly overcome with a desire to see it again.” She smiled brightly at him.

By this time Joffrey had reached her car door, and he opened it and held out his hand to her. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You look tired. Are you resting enough? You don’t want to overdo things in your condition.” He took a firm hold of her hand and pulled her from the car. 

Almost petrified with fear, Sansa allowed him to pull her close to his side. Her mind ran wild with ideas, none of them good; run back to the car and order Boros to drive off. Or have a fit and demand to be taken to town. She decided to brazen it out. 

Smiling, she looked up at Joffrey, almost squinting in the bright October sunshine. “Don’t be silly. I feel fine. I’m sure I just need a fun afternoon to keep me relaxed.”

But Joffrey peered into her face with concern. “No, you look tired. You should spend the afternoon resting.” He saw the look on her face that she wasn’t able to hide. “Don’t pout. I can take you to the show myself next week.” And he turned her towards the house, his grip like iron on her arm and her purse hanging forgotten in her other hand.


	12. The Moon Was a Ghostly Galleon

Back in her room Sansa sat shaking on the couch in her sitting area, completely at a loss. She wondered what to do now, as the time ticked away. She glanced at her watch. It was already almost twelve-thirty. 

Sandor would be waiting for her in the shopping mall next to the theater in an hour. They were going to meet in the underground parking lot, and go to the doctor’s house from there so that her microchip could be removed. They didn’t dare move out of the city until they made sure that she wasn’t traceable. Sandor had said that the chip could locate her position within one or two kilometers; close enough to be a solid lead in finding them once they went off the grid.

Sansa ran her fingers through her long, red hair in agitation. None of this is helping, she thought. She slipped her shoes off, stepped quietly to her bedroom door and slid onto her stomach. Looking through the gap at the base of the door made by the change of flooring from her bedroom carpet to marble in the hall, she could see shoes on the other side. 

They weren’t the type of shoes Joffrey would wear. He was all Italian leather, and these looked too casual and not well polished. Some guard, Sansa thought. Joffrey must be getting suspicious and reinstated round-the-clock security on her. From the relaxed posture of the feet, it looked like the guard was sitting in a chair, probably planning to remain for some time. She stood up again and returned to the middle of the room, her forehead furrowed in thought. 

She couldn’t call Sandor to let him know her situation. Joffrey didn’t let her have a phone in her room or a cell phone and her laptop was bugged, but maybe she could make a new plan and tip him off with a carefully worded email. She opened her laptop on the table and sent him a message.

Hi Sandor,   
Can you please pick up my prenatal vitamins at the pharmacy for me today? I just remembered as I was falling asleep right now that my bottle is almost empty. Joffrey wants me to rest so I’m here in my room taking a nap, but don’t worry about me because he’s keeping a close eye on my health. 

I was thinking today of where we had that argument, when I was so worried because you’d been gone for weeks and I didn’t know where you were, and I was mad at you when you came back and stormed away without talking to you. I don’t remember if I apologized before. I’m glad that I’ll be seeing you soon. I’m sure I’ll be feeling better by tonight.  
Sansa. 

She marked the message as important when she sent it and hoped that he understood what she was trying to say. Now she just had to wait until dark.

\--

Mindful of the cameras in her room, Sansa got ready for bed that night as usual. Climbing under her blankets in her pajamas, she set her watch for midnight and laid staring at the ceiling until the alarm sounded two hours later. She felt exhausted by the stress and wished it was all over already.

With the heavy curtains closed, the room was fully dark. With a feeling of dread, Sansa slipped out of bed and found her bag on the floor by touch alone. Climbing into her darkest jeans, a black sweatshirt, and her black jacket, she felt around in the bag for her sneakers. Her fingers shook so much she had to try twice to get the laces tied. Her bag was empty now of everything except the money. She slung it over her shoulder and walked to the French doors that led to her terrace balcony.

The moon was a pale shadow behind the clouds and the night was almost as dark as her room had been. Like the proverbial shadow, Sansa slipped out of the door into the windy October night and ran lightly down the terrace towards the stairs to the garden, staying close to the wall of the house.

At the base of the stairs she could barely make out the garden path, a lighter ribbon winding its way through the darkness of the lawn. She sped along the path towards the rose arbour where she had argued with Sandor that day he had returned after his month-long absence. 

She was through the archway, the dead petals of last summer’s roses brushing her shoulders as she passed, and rounding the corner of the garden shed on her way to the woods when a dark shape stepped out of the night and grabbed her arm.

Her heart leap joyfully for a moment, and then fear shot through her like the jolt of a taser when she realized that the man was much too short to be Sandor. 

“Where are you going at this hour, you stupid slut?” Joffrey demanded, his face twisted into a mask of bug-eyed fury. She noticed in her shock that he stank of booze as he yanked her by the arm back towards the house. 

Sansa twisted away from his grip and tried to step back as Joffrey whirled to backhand her across the face. Stunned by the blow, she bent over with dizziness and grayed out for a moment. She dropped to her knees out of his reach and began to crawl away from his grasping hands. 

In the darkness he missed her and grabbed a wisp of her hair instead. Sansa felt it pull out by the roots as she got to her feet, her sneaker toes digging deep in the gravel, and lunged away. 

Pumping her legs as fast as she could, Sansa was disoriented in the darkness and took three big strides, ending right into a wall, banging her shoulder painfully and knocking her breath from her chest. Running her hands along the obstacle, she recognized the garden shed. She found the handle of the warped wooden door and pulled it open as Joffrey’s heavy steps grew louder behind her. She slunk down into the darkest corner. 

“Come here, you bitch! When I find you you’ll wish I’d killed you like the rest of your family!”

Sansa realized that Joffrey was weaving around with drunkenness. She tried to quiet her gasping breaths as she knelt in her hiding place, hoping that he wouldn’t discover her. 

Just then, the shed door was yanked off its rusty hinges as Joffrey stumbled in. Howling with anger, he sunk his fingers deep into her shoulders. Closing his grip, he began to choke her as Sansa struggled for air and pried at his hands around her neck but he was too strong. 

She dropped her hands behind her, fingers skittering along the dusty wooden floor as she tried to find anything to pry him off. Her hands brushed against a large paper sack and grabbed desperately at it. Sansa slid her fingers inside to feel a powdery substance. Grabbing large handfuls, she closed her eyes as she mashed it into Joffrey’s face. 

Screeching terribly, Joffrey released her neck to grab at his face. His eyes were full of the powder. “Garden lime”, Sansa thought dully. “If he doesn’t wash that off soon, he’ll go blind.”

Stepping carefully around Joffrey’s writhing form, Sansa backed towards the door. She felt vomit rise to her throat as she left the shed hurriedly, his screams gradually fading behind her as she ran.

Back in the evening’s chill wind, Sansa felt trickles of sweat run coldly down her back underneath her sweater as she ran into the woods, desperation giving her extra speed. She worried frantically that the security guards from the house were right behind her. She glanced over her shoulder again and again but saw no one. 

Finally, she realized that she had run right past her rendezvous point with Sandor, and stopped. Maybe he hadn’t read her message or understood her clues to meet that night in the woods? She was miles away from anywhere and realized now that she’d left her bag with all the money behind in the garden. She thought about going back to get it and her stomach turned over in fright. She bent down and threw up into the leaves under an ancient cedar tree.


	13. Moonlight Reveals

After vomiting up everything in her stomach, Sansa sat dejectedly in the quiet night, leaning back against the rough bark of the tree that sheltered her. If her hands hadn’t been covered in lime like a gymnast's coating of chalk she would have believed that she’d imagined the struggle with Joffrey. Delayed shock made it seem like hours later but it wasn’t even an hour ago that she’d left her room to meet Sandor in the woods. 

The image of Joffrey writhing on the dirty floor of the garden shed like a worm cut in half by a trowel, screaming and tearing at his eyes came to her mind, and she had to swallow past the bile that rose into her throat. “Think of something else”, she demanded to herself. She rubbed her filthy hands into damp leaves as wet and heavy as drenched beach towels to clean them and then stood up. 

“Sandor or no Sandor, I need to get my bag. I’m not leaving without any money.” Sansa took a deep breath and turned back the way she’d come, hoping that she wasn’t too turned around in the trees to find her way back. Pushing sweet-smelling branches away from her face with determination, she emerged sooner than she had expected back into the garden that she used to love.

Silent as a wraith on the dew-wet grass that soaked her sneakers, Sansa skirted the gravel path, scanning the ground in the dark for her bag. “I thought I was standing here next to the arbour. I must have dropped it when Joffrey hit me and I grabbed my face.” Reminded of it, she touched her cheek gingerly but didn’t find any stabbing pain that might indicate serious injury. She continued her search.

Just as she spied her bag half-hidden under a dying clump of peonies, she heard heavy footsteps approaching from the shed fifteen feet away, followed by the sound of dragging. 

“Hey, look what I found!” Sandor rasped to her in a delighted whisper as he threw Joffrey’s bound body onto the grass at her feet. He reached into his long leather coat and removed a dark object that caught the light as the moon emerged from the clouds and lit the area like a black and white scene from Casablanca. Joffrey rolled over onto his tied hands to glare furiously up at them, his mouth gagged with something that might have been a piece of burlap tied in place with gardener’s twine. His eyes were streaming with tears. 

“At least he can still see,” Sansa thought. She wanted Sandor to wrap her up in his arms, but something about the intent look on his face held her back.

“Where have you been? I was waiting for you in the woods,” Sansa almost sobbed in relief, but Sandor remained looking down at Joffrey’s pathetic form. “What are you doing?” She asked, trying to get his attention.

“Killing this fucking asshole, what does it look like?” Sandor responded. “You throw that shit into his eyes? I came to look for you and heard him squealing like a pig being slaughtered so I trussed him up.” He laughed bitterly.

“Yes, he was choking me. He…he hit me and tried to choke me and-“ She stopped, afraid that she was about to cry. She was so tired of it all. “Let him go, Sandor. I have my money. Let’s just get out of here before the security guards come out. He doesn’t matter anymore.” 

But Sandor stayed frozen in place for a long moment, the gun held loosely at his side. He knelt down next to the terrified man to look him in the eyes. “We’ve had a profitable working relationship but I think I’m going in a different direction. No hard feelings.” Sandor put the gun to Joffrey’s forehead as Joffrey made muffled howling noises behind the gag. 

Sansa lunged forward and put her hand on the gun. “No! Don’t! Please don’t kill him.” Her blue eyes looked like glass marbles in the moonlight as she stared wildly at him in panic. 

“Course I have to kill him. He’ll never let you go. Be looking over your shoulder forever, waiting for the bullet. I’m not the only paid killer on his payroll.” Sandor’s mouth twitched into a grin, but there was no humour in his dark eyes. 

She yanked desperately at the gag around Joffrey’s face until, with a whooping breath, Joffrey’s mouth was free and Sansa leaned over him. 

“Do you promise to let us go and never look for us?” Sansa narrowed her eyes as she questioned him.

His eyes flicked to Sandor fearfully for an instant and then he nodded. “Of course,” he said haltingly and coughed as he caught his breath. “That seems like the best option right now.” Joffrey grinned in a sick parody of a smile. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to go until you heard the truth first.”

“What do you mean? Truth about what? I know that you killed my family. Sandor told me,” Sansa said bitterly. She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring down at him in disgust. 

Joffrey laughed softly. “He would know. Did he tell you he killed most of them for me and was well paid for it?” He smirked when he saw Sansa’s understanding run across her face. 

Sandor stepped towards Joffrey and kicked him heavily in the side with a dull sound like a mallet hitting a slab of meat. 

“Shut the fuck up!” he snarled as Joffrey emitted a loud groan.

“Stop! Tell me the truth! Is any of this true?” Sansa turned wildly to Sandor as he hunched his shoulders defensively and avoided her eyes. 

“You’re trying to trick me! I’m not staying here with you anymore!” She snarled at Joffrey. Grabbing clumsily at her bag on the ground, she turned away towards the house. 

“Wait! It’s all true. Sandor killed lots of your family members for me. But not all of them.” Joffrey struggled to rise to his knees, his hands twisted tightly behind him. “Your parents are still alive.” 

Sansa stumbled in mid stride and turned slowly back towards him. “They’re alive? Where are they?” She looked to Sandor for confirmation and he shrugged noncommittally. 

“It’s true. I don’t know where they are now. They hid their trail too well, but I know they faked their deaths in that car accident. I guess they hoped that you would never be discovered living as an orphan with a new family in another country. Stay here with me and I swear I’ll use every penny I have to help you find them.” 

Sansa swayed and Sandor put a hand onto her shoulder. She worried she was about to faint.

“Don’t listen to any more of this crap. He’s just trying to keep you here with lies again. You can’t trust him.” Sandor led her towards the house but she held back and looked up at him angrily.

“I can’t give up my only chance to find my parents. Don’t you understand that?” 

“That sick asshole is never going to help you unless it plays into his plans. Don’t be fucking stupid. He’s going to string you along until the kid arrives and then throw you away for the maggots. We’re leaving. Now.” Sandor shoved her towards the house and then raised his handgun again, aiming carefully along the barrel to Joffrey’s chest.

“No! No! Wait!” Joffrey pleaded, as Sansa stepped between them. 

Sandor moved his finger off the trigger, but didn’t lower the gun. “Move. I’m not playing around.”

Sansa held her hands out to him, palms up in supplication. They looked white and small in the moonlight and her fingernails were full of dirt. “Please. I know he’s not worth it. But we can’t buy our freedom with blood on our hands. It would be a curse that would follow us forever.”

“Fuck that! I’ve killed hundreds of people and I live fine. What’s one more?” Sandor’s scowl etched lines deep into his face.

“But you have a chance for a better way now. No one’s forcing you. You can make your own choice. You don’t have to be a killer anymore.” Sansa realized she was crying when she tasted salt in the corner of her mouth.

Sandor’s aim never wavered, but his eyes softened as a look of mingled disappointment and resentment came over him. Flood lights from the house popped on like flash bulbs all around them and an alarm began to wail. 

Rainbow coloured static filled Sansa’s vision as she felt Sandor grab her roughly and pull her along beside him. She recognized the feel of the driveway gravel under her shoes as she panted to keep up with his long strides. She heard shouting around the back of the house from where they'd just been but no one blocked their way to Sandor’s car.

He yanked the passenger side door open and pushed her inside, one hand on the top of her head, and threw her bag onto her lap with a thump. She fumbled to click her seat belt as he started the engine and they sped away from the house. Towards safety, she hoped.


End file.
